Nightfall: Weeping Moonlight
by xStormyx
Summary: Spurred on by her father's last words, Irina declares war on Ema and the Gavinners: she'll stop at nothing to get revenge. The boys are running out of time as they try to find her before she finds them - and destroys everything they care about.
1. Dark Rapture

Hi there guys; welcome to Part III of the Nightfall Trilogy. If you haven't read Ascending Darkness & Moving Shadows, I highly recommend doing so. Without those, you'll be lost.

I own nothing except OCs, the original plot and poems.

Further Details:

T for violence, swearing and somewhat adult situations - nothing explicit.

Genre: Romance / Angst / Mystery/ Supernatural / Drama / Humour

Weeping Moonlight continues where Moving Shadows left off. This story moves on to the dark legacy Rafael has left behind, namely his daughter Irina and his (newly introduced) son, Leonardo. In the last chapter of Moving Shadows you saw the silent declaration of war between both sides and the realisation that Ema is smack bang in the middle of it: for reasons unknown, Irina has it out for Ema and she has made it clear she's going to kill her if it's the last thing she does. Weeping Moonlight is the conclusion to the Nightfall trilogy and as thus, we'll get the answers to all the mysteries that have developed over the past two stories.

If you've made it this far, thank you. Please stay with me. I promise I will try to live up to the story I've build.

Finally, my profile has a link to my Nightfall (Facebook) fanpage. Give it a look.

As always, reviews are appreciated. Please take a moment out of your (I'm sure) very busy day to leave me your thoughts. They are motivation and inspiration.

I would also like to add that, in this chapter, I have deviated from my usual design of writing my own poetry. I have used the lyrics from a song called Iron by Woodkid. This song is the reason chapter 1 existed even before I had updated chapter 40. Take a listen. It fits the mood.

And now... we start.

* * *

><p><span>Dark Rapture<span>

.'.

From the dawn of time to the end of days

I will have to run, away

I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste

Of the blood on my lips, again

'.'

"Rewind it."

He complies wordlessly.

"Stop."

The screen halts mid-movement. A room full of familiar faces fill the frame and he smiles at the look of confusion and anger registered there as an amused voice drifts out through the speakers.

"_Something about you has caught my daughter's attention, Ema, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that that __**isn't**__ a good thing."_

"_I'm quaking in my shoes."_

He smiles. "Fiery little thing isn't she?"

"Yes, Leo," is the soft answer. "We established that already."

"_Rafael, that's—"_

"_Enough? You should know by now, Kade. It's never enough. She will __**never**__ have enough."_

"_Your daughter sounds like a first-class whore, Rainsford."_

"Three guesses on which Gavinner dies first," Leo laughs.

Her expression doesn't shift. "Adagio won't die."

His eyebrow quirks and a smirk curls his lips. "I had no idea you were sweet on the nation's heartthrobs."

She turns to look at him, her eyes piercing into him. "Death isn't always the worst punishment, Leo."

"I'm breathless to hear your plan."

She turns back to the screen, her silver eyes unblinking. "A plan is for complicated tasks," she says. "A task with multiple variables."

Leo says nothing, turning back to watch the video. He already knows what she has planned. They sit in silence, the conversation from the video the only sound.

"_Don't invite the devil," _Rafael's whisper is cold and meaningful_. "Especially not when the devil comes with an army."_

"Dad sure knows how to deliver a message," he says, his voice tinged with an appreciative smile.

"Speaking of messages," she responds emotionlessly. "I trust you delivered the disc."

"Don't worry, Irina," he reassures her. "Cavatin is probably watching it right now."

"Good."

"Why give it to him now?"

"_You're going to watch all the people you love die before she comes for you. Deston, Lana, Klavier… You'll bury them all before the end."_

He observes Irina silently watch the screen and then her magnificent head moves ever so slightly.

"Dad's never been able to grasp one thing," she explains.

"And what's that, little sister?"

"That they're driven to protecting the women they love."

He begins to understand. "And when they fail?"

Another silence falls around them and the conversation from the video takes hold.

"_Raina has no place in this conversation."_

"_Does she have a place in your heart?"_

"_Nothing you say about Raina will get to me, Rainsford. I've moved on."_

"_You wouldn't if you'd heard her screams. She screamed and screamed until she lost her voice and when she couldn't scream anymore, she cried."_

Leo and Irina watch Deston's face contort. They watch the glass shatter, watch as the screen jerks violently when the young man attacks their father.

"When they fail," she says softly, watching the screen mesmerised, "they do stupid things."

"He has the video," Leo reaffirms, nodding in satisfaction.

"He can watch Raina die," Irina says. "The same way we have to watch this."

"I love the way your mind works," Leo says.

"Me too."

"So why did you keep it so long?" he repeats.

"There was no use giving it to him then. He was almost broken." She shifts and when she speaks next, there's a smile in her voice. "Men like him don't let these things pass. I had a feeling he would become a nuisance. So I kept it safe."

"Not worried he's going to come after you?"

"He's already coming for me."

"When he sees that video, you know he's going to want to kill you himself."

She laughs. "I'm counting on it."

Leo pauses as another thought crosses his mind. "You enjoyed killing little Miss Raina Aeron, didn't you?"

Irina's quiet and her brother sees the answer in the smile still on her lips. He follows her gaze back to the screen and his smirk widens at the face that meets his eyes.

"_Deston, stop this," _Ema's voice is shaking_. "This is what he wants."_

"_Look at his face!" _Deston shouts, rounding on Ema while pointing into Rafael's distorted expression._ "Does it look like this is what he wants?"_

"He's going to become so consumed with finding us," Irina continues, "that he'll make all the right mistakes."

"_I DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE'D WANT! SHE'S DEAD! HE KILLED HER AND HE'S THREATENED TO KILL EMA! ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME THIS IS INJUSTICE?"_

"Aren't you worried he'll have another meltdown?" Leo asks, curious. "He'll be useless."

And then, for the first time, Irina's mouth curls in contempt. "It was only a belated response. His love for Raina is as dead as she is. He wants revenge for what was taken from him, not what was lost." Her eyes turn to Leo and there's amusement in her pale eyes. "That's not to say he won't lose anything now."

"How long?"

Irina understands his question. "We'll have her soon," she assures him. "Cavatin's mistake is like a coming storm cloud — when it rains, it's going to pour."

"You're deviating from Dad's plan," Leo points out.

"He'll forgive me," she answers confidently.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"I don't have the time to make sure. I can't wait that long."

"Not unless we revert to Plan B."

"No." Irina leans forward, her hair falling smoothly against one raised arm. "Her connections are too great. We can't afford that sort of attention for this."

Leo considers this and nods, aware of the truth in her words.

"I've been tracking David's movements."

"And?"

"He's good at covering his tracks," Leo says sombrely.

"You don't fool me, brother." Irina smiles at him. "You're just as good at uncovering them."

Leo laughs. "You caught me," he confesses, throwing his hands up.

"What is he up to?"

"He _is_ good at hiding what he's doing," Leo stresses, "but I found out enough to gather he's trying to hide Gale's daughter."

Irina is quiet for a few minutes before she answers. "The child isn't our priority. Let him think he's succeeded. We'll deal with her later."

"Gavin's trying to have Daryan's sentence waivered."

Another smile lifts her luscious lips. "Good."

"I hear he's turning his attention to Simon as well. Gavin wants Simon's help against us, no doubt."

"We have to remedy that, then, don't we?"

"It's arranged. Faron and Liam are going to visit Mr Misham very soon… right before they _accidentally_ re-spark Mr Brushel's interest."

Irina's expression dissolves into pure amusement as she turns to Leo. "I don't expect it's about purchasing a painting."

Leo flashes her a smile. "Not exactly, no."

"What would I do without you, big bro?" Irina laughs. "You always read my mind."

"Can you read mine?"

"Mrs Crescend is recovering…" she answers with a knowing look. "For now."

Leo laughs. "Well done. Although my inner monologue was using her first name."

"Let's give it a few more days on Miss Maralie," Irina says. "Mr Aded might surprise us."

"_Oh, Irina!"_

Rafael's laughing voice breaks into their conversation and they both turn back to the screen in silence.

"_My dear, sweet Irina, I beg you! Don't betray your father."_

Leo glances at his sister and smiles at the look of enjoyment on her face. Her body is relaxed.

"I would never betray my father…" She turns to meet Leo's gaze. "Would I, brother?"

He cocks his head to the side and winks at her. They simultaneously turn back to the screen where the events fold out. The speakers boom with Rafael's rage and the frame jerks as his body falls into silence. Their faces remain untouched by sorrow or anger and, after a moment in which they watch the Gavinners pull Deston down from the stage before he shrugs them off and disappears from the room, Leo turns off the TV, plunging them into darkness.

He hears her shift and then the click of her heels can be heard on the wooden floor. The door opens and light spills in around her frame as she turns back to look at her brother. "When do we expect Mr Misham's unintentional suicide?"

"As soon as Faron manipulates enough interest in the good painter."

Irina smiles. "It was so nice of Zak to die when he did, wasn't it?"

"It was the least he could do," Leo sneers. "We gave him the 7 years he wanted. It was time to pay up."

"Mm," she hums. "It's funny isn't it? We went to all the trouble of letting Kristoph know Zak was going to resurface because Dad needed him on the inside to find Uncle David… And it was the other Gavin who located him."

"Yeah. Worked out pretty well though," Leo comments, standing up and walking to Irina. "Gavin has no idea what his brother's done."

"And when they try and tell him the truth—"

"—which they will—" Leo murmurs, leaning into Irina.

"—we'll strike." She smiles and tilts her head to the side the same way he did before. "But let's give them a few more days of peace, shall we?"

Leo arches an eyebrow.

Irina's smile flowers. "It hurts the most when you expect it the least."

His expression clears up and he throws his head back in a laugh. "You're a cold woman, little sis."

Irina flicks her hair and throws him a meaningful look over her shoulder as she turns away.

"That's why Dad chose me."


	2. Love Elixir

Love Elixir

.'.

The dark night guard us,

The moonlight guide us,

Take my hand, hold on tight,

And pray the end never find us.

'.'

Deston stuffed the white paper bag he'd been holding under one arm while holding a finger up to his earpiece. "You need to go check on Ema, make sure she's ok."

"She will probably wish to talk with you, Deston," Klavier warned. "Will you be available?"

"Sure," Deston said smoothly. "Unless anything urgent turns up."

"Are you still at work?"

"Just going home," Deston lied, looking at the small door in front of him. "Talk soon."

"Ja," was the smooth reply.

He nodded even though there was nobody to see the gesture and hit the button on his headset, disconnecting the call. Without preamble, Deston raised a hand and knocked on the door and took a step back, his ears straining to pick up any sounds coming from inside the building. He heard them then, their voices noticeable but inaudible, and he waited. Moments later, the door opened leisurely and a man stood before him, a knowing smile on his face.

"Deston," Phoenix said. "We've been expecting you."

He stood aside as the drummer stepped over the threshold and into the offices of the Wright Anything Agency. Phoenix led him through the entry room into the next where a once-successful lawyer's office had been. Deston took in the sight of the people already there, squished in small places to accommodate the clutter of mess belonging to Trucy Wright. He threw an amused smile at Phoenix before turning to greet them all.

"Hey guys," he said casually.

"Mr Cavatin," Edgeworth said with a formal nod of the head.

"Hi, Deston," Maya greeted him chirpily before letting her eyes wander to the package still under his arm. "Is that for me?"

He looked at her in amusement. "It depends. Did you order a cheeseburger?"

Maya didn't even answer that question. Her dainty feet hopped in the small spaces of the floor until she was before him and holding her hand out expectantly. He flashed her a smile and dropped the bag into her arms.

"Thank you!"

"Anything for the Kurain Master," Deston said with a bow.

"Frivolous fool," Franziska muttered under her breath and the Gavinner looked at her with a glint of amusement still in his grey eyes.

"Miss von Karma," he acknowledged. "We meet again."

Her only response was to stare at him pointedly but he turned to look at Phoenix again, his eyes now questioning. "What's going on?"

Phoenix gestured at the small space on the couch behind him. "Take a seat, Deston," he said while remaining standing himself. "I'm glad you could come."

Deston fell onto it, his interest piqued. "I know you wouldn't call me unless it was important."

Phoenix nodded thoughtfully and glanced at his friends as if he was making sure they were all there, all of them listening. He ran a hand over his beanie, watching Maya plop into a seat and Deston saw the wistful smile that touched his lips when she unwrapped the burger and sunk her teeth into it.

"First, how are Ema and Klavier?" Phoenix asked, turning back to him.

"They're fine," Deston answered with a nod. "Apparently, Ema's quite befuddled by the British speak."

"It can be a rather incomprehensible accent," Edgeworth agreed.

"Does Klavier know you told me everything?" Phoenix enquired.

Deston shook his head. "No. Neither does Ema."

"Let's keep it that way for a while."

"Wright," Edgeworth intervened, his voice quiet. "You should tell Mr Cavatin now. We don't have much time."

"You're right," the other man said, his face turning thoughtful again. "The question is where do I start?"

"Allow me," Franziska interrupted curtly and turned to Deston without waiting for Phoenix's permission. "You asked me to check on Rainsford's history with any crime rings."

"I did," he acknowledged with a nod of the head. "But I've discovered his criminal underground."

"I know that," Franziska answered in a cool voice. "Phoenix Wright has told me everything you told him. I have other information."

"My apologies," Deston said, biting back the smile that she always induced.

If she noticed his reaction, she didn't show it. "Kristoph Gavin has been planning something with him," she announced.

Deston's eyebrows shot up. "What?" he said startled.

"There was a significant amount of correspondence between the two until Klavier Gavin intervened with his PRA sanctions," Franziska explained.

"What did they have to correspond about?" he asked sharply.

"David Rainsford," Phoenix added. "Looks like Kristoph promised to use his influence to locate David."

"What for?" Deston continued in that same dark tone. "Kristoph wouldn't offer his help like that unless there was something in it for him. What did he—" And then he went still, as if a thought had speared him. He turned, his eyes roaming over Phoenix's casual attire and he inhaled sharply. "Son of a bitch."

Edgeworth cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "It appears you've gathered his reason for helping Rafael, Mr Cavatin."

"He is desperate," Franziska said in a voice now tinged with uncharacteristic apprehension. "He doesn't want Phoenix saying anything to anyone."

"Because up until his trial," Phoenix continued, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "he had his reputation to rely on. If I'd said anything to anyone then, he'd be okay. Nobody would believe the words of a forger over a renowned defense attorney."

"Especially one who stood up for you," Deston observed bitterly. "That bastard sure knows how to play."

"Indeed," Edgeworth said dryly. "However now that his reputation is in tatters, people will be far more willing to believe him capable of foul play in Wright's disbarring."

"So he offered to find David," Deston voiced aloud, more to himself than any of them, "in exchange for Rafael's help in silencing Phoenix."

"What I want to know is why haven't they tried again?" Franziska added.

Phoenix suddenly threw her an amused look. "So you've decided to leave it to others to finish me off, Franziska?"

She smirked. "It was a fair enough question."

"It is," Edgeworth agreed, ignoring their banter. "A sufficient amount of time has passed since Wright's accident." He looked at Phoenix. "What happened?"

"Maybe Rafael realised Kristoph couldn't help him," Phoenix conjectured.

"Or maybe he was distracted by Klavier," Maya chipped in suddenly, startling Deston — he'd almost forgotten she was there; her hands were scrunching up the paper bag and she was wiping at her mouth.

"Maya…" Phoenix started and Deston heard the wariness of his tone. He glanced at the man but before he could question him on the warning look in his eye, Maya spoke again.

"You know, Nick," she continued obliviously, "I think he was just distracted by Klavier's investigation into Gale's case. She said he'd think—"

"Maya," Phoenix cut across her, his voice devoid of all laziness now. Deston saw the sharp look he threw her, the way Maya bit her lip as if she'd realised she'd said too much.

"Phoenix," Deston said firmly. "What are you hiding from me _this _time?"

There was a stillness in which Phoenix looked at Franziska and Edgeworth, his expression so helpless it was as if he'd momentarily regressed into the animated attorney he'd once been. Their averted eyes told him he was on his own in this and he sighed, shooting Maya an exasperated look.

"I don't suppose you'll just let me say it's not important and—"

"No."

Phoenix sighed again and sat down on the sofa. When he looked at Deston again, his features had pulled together into serious maturity, lined by sombreness.

"I… knew Gale before you told me about her," Phoenix confessed, his voice heavy. "I apologise for withholding that information."

Deston's eyebrows shot up and his back straightened in surprise. "You knew her? How?"

"She was a legal advisor," Edgeworth cut in quietly. "Even I met her a few times."

"Gale was my friend," Phoenix said. "She confided in me about Rafael when she was still with David and she wanted to protect him. She wanted to know if there was anything she could do to get rid of Rafael."

"Wait a minute," Deston interrupted. "I visited Simon in prison. I mentioned you to him. He never gave any indication he'd ever met you."

"We haven't," Phoenix confirmed. "After her break-up with David, she moved away and I didn't see her again until after her daughter was born."

"She told you about Lana?"

Phoenix nodded, leaning forward and staring at the ground. "She swore me to secrecy. A few months before her death, Gale came to me with some files — folders, pictures. She said a man called Kade Richards would come for it and I had to keep it safe until then. Of course, he never did because he was arrested."

"Did you know what she was planning?" Deston asked sharply before promptly wincing: Ema would have killed him for asking such a stupid question if she knew — of _course_ Phoenix couldn't have known otherwise he would have stopped Gale.

Phoenix, however, was unoffended. "No. I thought she'd misplaced her trust in Kade. In hindsight, I should have seen it coming. Why else would she give me anything to look after? But…"

"But...?" Deston prodded when he drifted off in thought.

"She'd also given me information on Kristoph," Phoenix said simply, looking at Deston seriously. "I realised later that it was probably done as much to distract me from the strangeness of her request as it was to help me."

"What was in the file?"

Phoenix hesitated for the slightest moment. "She told me not to trust Kristoph," he admitted. "She'd found evidence that he'd been enlisting Rafael's services."

"Was it to find Zak Gramarye?" Maya asked, voicing aloud the question in Deston's mind.

"That was one reason," Phoenix nodded. "But Gale found that some of Kristoph's clients were Rafael's men. They had an agreement — Kristoph would have Rafael's men acquitted and he was paid handsomely for it."

"Where is this file?" Deston asked.

"I gave it to David Rainsford."

He frowned. "You should have given it to me, Phoenix."

"Gale wanted David to have it," Maya interrupted quietly.

Deston's automatic reaction was to tell her it didn't matter what Gale wanted, that that evidence belonged with and to the law but before the words could make it to his throat, he realised that his responsive anger was premature. He glanced around him at the legends of the legal system: Franziska and Edgeworth looked unaffected by this piece of news which meant they knew what Phoenix had done. Their silent consent in his decision made Deston retreat: if these famed prosecutors had no problem with Phoenix withholding evidence from the law, there was a very good reason for it.

"Okay," he acceded with a deep breath and a slow nod. "You must know what you're doing so I won't push it. I'm trusting you."

"Thank you," Phoenix said quietly. A moment of silence filled the room and they all looked at each other as if trying to make sure everyone agreed to dispel the awkwardness that temporarily took hold. "There's something else," he added and Deston was alarmed by the gravity of his expression — his blue eyes were filled with an unsettling amount of consternation.

"Tell me."

"When you told me about what Rafael said," Phoenix explained, "I was confused."

"What?"

"Ema," he said simply. "Why would Rafael tell Ema he'd only tried to harm her once?"

Deston frowned. "I don't follow, Phoenix."

"Think about it like this," he explained, his fingers stiffening in an urgent gesture for attention. "The assumption is Rafael and Irina have the same goal in mind, correct?" He paused a moment and Deston nodded. "So why was he making a discrepancy? Why did he make a point of telling you all that the later attacks were Irina's doing? That he didn't even know about them?"

"He _did_ say he didn't know about them," Deston muttered, his frown deepening.

"It is almost as though her reasons for attacking Ema were different than that of her Father's," Edgeworth elaborated.

"Which means," Franziska picked up, "that if one of the attacks on Ema was to warn you off—"

"—then the other was for a completely different reason," Deston finished off in a tone of disturbed realisation.

"Now think about this: why would Irina go rogue?" Phoenix asked quietly. "And why is she so fixated on Ema?"

Deston examined Phoenix's expression for a moment. "You don't think Irina is attacking Ema to warn me off anymore."

"I think to some degree, she is," Edgeworth interjected. "But at this point, I don't believe that is the driving force behind her actions."

"He said Ema had done something to annoy Irina," Deston muttered. "Implying her attacks are fuelled by more than just a desire to warn me."

"In the correspondence I could discover," Franziska said, her usually firm voice low as she lifted a folder off the space in the couch behind her, "I discovered this."

Deston reached forward to accept the sheet of paper she held out for him and he glanced at Phoenix whose perpetually apathetic face was now pinched with undiluted trepidation. He turned to the letter in his hand.

"This is from Kristoph," he said blankly, having instantly recognised the elder Gavin's elegant handwriting.

"Read it," Franziska urged.

He was already several sentences in, his eyes narrowing with each new word they read; the fingers clasping the edges of the letter were getting more and more tense, the muscles in his arm tightening, the tick in his jaw increasing—

"Dear God," he breathed, his body going slack with disbelief. His expression fell into one of shock and he glanced up at everyone, his sharp eyes dulled by one big question: "Why does _he_ want Ema dead?"

"It's not difficult to figure out," Phoenix answered, his eyes serious, "if you consider Kristoph's primary target—" he gestured to himself "—combined with who her boyfriend is…"

"It is more than likely Kristoph Gavin disliked the idea of his brother consorting with a woman known to have strong ties with Phoenix," Edgeworth said.

"There is no doubt in my mind that Klavier knows something Kristoph doesn't want Ema — and, by extension, me — to discover," Phoenix said. "Which means we can safely assume that Rafael's attack on Ema was a hit request by Kristoph."

Deston snarled. "I'm going to kill that fucking son of a—"

"Don't be a fool," Franziska cut in sharply. "We don't know what else he might do if he found out we knew his secret."

"Franziska's right, Mr Cavatin," Edgeworth said quietly. "He's a dangerous man. Let's not underestimate him."

"We told you," Phoenix explained, "because someone needs to know. Someone has to know what to look out for."

"But Rafael's gone," Maya cut in again, puzzled. "So now Kristoph doesn't have anybody to turn to…"

"I don't trust him," Phoenix said seriously. "Irina is still out there."

"Keep an eye on Ema," Edgeworth instructed.

"I will," Deston said fiercely. "I'll be damned if I let any harm come to her."

"Kristoph could have ties to Irina," Franziska added, glancing at Maya. "Kristoph may also know of Irina's vendetta against Ema."

"Is there any chance Ema's kidnapping was the warning?" Edgeworth speculated. "Perhaps it was during the time she was held captive Ema did — or said — something which triggered Irina's enmity."

"Why didn't Irina just kill her then?" Maya asked.

"Because she likes games," Deston growled.

"Perhaps the Rohypnol was her attempt at murder," Franziska suggested.

But Deston was shaking his head. "It's too risky. If she wanted to ensure Ema's death, she would have used a fool proof method." His eyes lowered to the letter. "My assumption there is she wanted to induce a coma or play with her memories — maybe both. Rohypnol isn't good for much except drugging and amnesia."

"But why?" Maya asked again.

"I don't know," Deston said, his voice bitter.

"Ema isn't safe," Edgeworth said, bringing them all back to the reason they were all gathered here. "But we need to keep that knowledge to this room for the meanwhile."

"I'll deal with Kristoph," Phoenix said in a firm voice.

"How?" Deston turned his steely eyes on the former attorney.

"Leave that to us," Franziska ordered. "Your job is to find Irina Rainsford before she finds Ema."

"No," he disagreed quietly, letting the letter flutter to the ground as he stood up. "My job is to kill Irina Rainsford before she kills Ema."

.'.

Klavier paused at the bedside, watching Ema turn over in her sleep and murmur something incomprehensible. He frowned at the anxious sound before sitting down beside her and resting a hand on her face.

"Ema?" She didn't respond. He brushed the hair away from her face. "Hey, wake up."

Her eyelids flickered and she recoiled as if the light was painful to her. He leaned across the bed, taking care not to depress any weight on her sleeping form, and pulled the discarded blankets up to her face. He moved across the room to draw the blinds shut and when the brightness in the room dimmed, he went back to her, looking down into her face to see if it had given her some reprieve. She was watching him through bleary eyes.

"Are you okay?" Klavier asked gently, sitting down again.

Ema blinked up at him. "I'm fine," she answered, seemingly puzzled by his apprehension. "Why?"

"You were talking in your sleep. It was not a particularly happy sound," he told her. "Were you having a nightmare?"

Her forehead came together in a frown. "I… don't remember," she confessed, the frown deepening, "but I feel weird."

"Weird?" He felt a pang of worry and his eyes ran over her. "Do you feel unwell?"

"No," she said quickly as if to banish his concerns and when he relaxed, her voice lowered with confusion. "I just feel kind of down." She paused and Klavier waited quietly; he could see the wheels in her head turning. "I know I was dreaming about something important but I can't remember what. It's weird because it happened once before…" Ema glanced up at him with serious eyes. "The day we found Deston, I woke up feeling the same way. Klavier, do you think—?"

He understood her fear immediately. "I was on the phone with him less than five minutes ago," he said reassuringly, stretching out beside her and letting his fingers run lightly over her hair. "He is fine."

"He sounded okay?"

Klavier nodded. "He was on his way home." When she still didn't look reassured, he touched her leg lightly to get her attention. "I also spoke to Seren and Raoul. They are making sure he does not watch that video."

"Do they know what's on there?" she asked, the dread seeping into her words.

"Raoul intends on checking it before he allows Deston anywhere near it."

Ema nodded and he could see her trying to calm herself down. "I just worry."

"You have been through a lot, Ema," he told her gently, propping his head on his hand and turning to look at her. "It is natural you should feel this anxiousness."

"Do you think we can call him?" she asked timidly.

Klavier glanced at the night stand where he'd put his phone then looked back at her. "It is late for him," he told her. "He will probably be getting ready for bed. We'll try him later, ja?"

Ema nodded and looked up at the ceiling with still-sleepy eyes. "I forget the time difference."

"It is understandable," Klavier said kindly, reaching out to caress her cheek. "You have not been here 24 hours."

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked, turning to look at him.

He shook his head. "_Nein_. I was talking to Markus — the manager of this hotel. He is an old friend. We studied together."

"In Germany?"

He nodded. "Ja."

"How come he's working here?"

"He likes the UK," Klavier told her with a shrug. "I also considered taking up residence here."

Ema's eyes widened in surprise. "You did?"

"_Ja._ I changed my mind when my brother asked me to join him in America."

He saw her open her mouth as if to say something and then close it, her lips pursing together thoughtfully. He let his fingers trail up to her eyebrow as she turned her stare back up to the ceiling and he watched her for a moment, wondering what she was thinking.

"What is it?"

She threw him a glance, a fleeting look that was quickly averted as if she was uncomfortable. "It's weird. I can't imagine you being anywhere other than America."

"I cannot, either," Klavier said with a slight smile. "I cannot envision a life without you."

"Me neither," she murmured almost absent-mindedly and Klavier felt his eyebrows ascend in surprise. Apparently, Ema realised the uncharacteristic nature of her own comment because she looked at him suddenly, an embarrassed expression in her eyes. "I–I only meant that I can't imagine what it would be like to go to work for someone who wasn't a glimmerous fop."

"I believe you, Fräulein," he said sombrely and laughed when she looked away, a pout on her lips. His eyes were drawn to the cut that was still not completely gone on the lower lip and his finger travelled down to it, frowning when he felt its slightly rough texture beneath his touch. Ema's eyes snapped up to his. "Does this hurt?"

"No," she said quietly.

Klavier kept his fingers right on her mouth as he looked up to meet her gaze. He thought to tell her he was sorry she'd had to endure what she had but what was the use in reminding her of something she was trying to forget? It wouldn't heal the physical wounds she was wearing nor erase the situation. So, instead of saying anything at all, he leaned down and just before he brushed her mouth with his, he heard her quiet intake of breath.

She stirred under his touch: her hand came to rest at his cheek and he smiled slightly at the gesture, his heart skipping a beat at this small victory. It wasn't the first time she had touched him willingly — tenderly — but it still made something in his chest expand with absurd pleasure. It felt like he'd been waiting and fighting for her forever but now that she was finally here, he couldn't remember what life had been like without her.

He pulled back a little; she was staring up at him shyly, the look at once alien and adorable in her features and he smiled again, letting his hand trace the curve of her cheek. When had he fallen so endlessly in love with her? When had her emerald eyes captured his heart?

How _long_ had he loved her?

He couldn't even remember. His mind was unsuccessfully telling him there had to be an answer — after all, everything had to have a beginning, didn't it? — but his heart was drowning out his logic with just one word: _forever_.

"What are you trying to reason out?"

The question took him aback and his train of thought was momentarily derailed as he focused on Ema again. She was watching him with an intrigued expression. "What?"

"You have that look," Ema said, seemingly unaware of his surprise. "The one you get just before you're about to pounce on Apollo with a hellish question."

Klavier let out a soft laugh at the comparison. "I had no idea I was that obvious," he said with amusement. "I shall have to learn to better conceal my expressions."

Ema waved him off. "You're not obvious. I've just spent too much time around you."

With a playful laugh, Klavier snaked an arm around her waist to draw her closer. "I do not believe you have spent _enough _time around me."

"Stop it, Klavier," Ema said with a roll of her eyes but he saw the slight flush that crept up to her face. "You don't need to turn everything into some sort of innuendo."

"I was not."

She quirked an eyebrow. "I don't believe you."

"I merely meant," Klavier said, the devil in him rising to the surface as he edged closer still, "that if you had spent too much time around me, you would know a lot more about me."

"Like what?" she said with a scoff. "I know you're a glimmerous fop."

"Oh? What is my favourite kind of food?"

Her mouth parted instantly as if she was about to answer but no sound came out. There was a split second of confusion in her face as she searched for an evasive answer and then her eyes widened in shock. "Oh my God," she exclaimed.

Klavier grinned. "I rest my case."

"Oh my God," she repeated, smacking a hand to her head. "I _don__'__t_ know!"

"I must say," he went on, unperturbed by her reaction, "that was the easiest victory I— Ema?"

She was upright now, her hand still to her head and looking utterly bewildered. He sat up with her, frowning at the look on her face when she turned to look at him, the lines on his forehead deepening when she spoke next. "I just flew across the ocean with you and I don't even know what your favourite food is!"

"Ema," he said, putting a hand on her back. "It is not that important a detail."

"Isn't it?" she asked, her expression troubled. "I know that we left just to get away from… from everything going on back at home—" a shadow passed over her features "—but should we have come such a long way when we don't even know anything about each other?"

Realisation dawned on him before she'd even finished her distressed rant but instead of being troubled by it, he smiled. He looked at her evenly for a moment, hoping that his undisturbed countenance would be infectious and she would calm down. Her eyes were flickering back and forth, waiting for an answer.

"Ema," he said soothingly, rubbing her back. "Let me ask you a question."

"I hope you're not going to ask me what my favourite food is," she said nervously.

"What attracted you to me?"

Whatever she'd been expecting him to ask, it wasn't that: her eyes lost some of their horror as astonishment took over. The colour in her face deepened at the question and she frowned as if she wasn't quite certain if he was serious. Klavier kept his gaze hers with patient expectancy.

"Well…" she said quietly, looking down at her lap as the frown between her eyes grew.

Klavier suddenly felt apprehensive, realising the enormity of the question he'd just posed: what would be her answer? Was he ready for it? Why _was_she attracted to him?

_Am I going to regret asking her this?_

"Because underneath all that glimmer and façade of foppishness, you're a good man," she said, her voice tinged with the barest hints of amusement. "I thought you'd never be able to accept Daryan's guilt but you proved me wrong. You didn't just accept it — you _did_ something about it." She stopped as if she was done but just as disappointment was making its way into his system (_was __that __all __it __was?)_Ema spoke up again to dispel it: "I care about you because of who you are: strong, thoughtful and, cheesy lines aside—" she smiled a little and Klavier chuckled "—cemented with strong principles. You have a purer outlook on life than anyone else I've ever known."

"And did any of that require knowledge of my likes or dislikes?" he asked, smiling again.

She looked conflicted again. "No…"

"Ema," he said softly, turning her face so she was facing him. "It does not matter where we were because the past is gone. It does not matter where we will be because the future is unknown. All that matters is the present — because that is where we _are_."

"Where are we?" she asked quietly, her eyes searching his.

"Caught in the middle of a futile debate," he said and chuckled when she gave him a slight shove. He thumbed her cheek gently and shook his head. "It does not matter what my favourite food is. What will that tell you about my personality?"

She nodded slowly, understanding smoothing out the lines of her frown. "Nothing."

"Exactly," he said, satisfied. "A relationship built on colour preference or partiality to rock music will lead nowhere. Those are not the factors which rule your decisions in important matters, ja?"

Ema nodded. "You're right."

"I am," Klavier said with ringing finality and she arched an eyebrow again.

"Fop."

"A correct fop," Klavier said with a wink and ducked her swipe at his head with a laugh. "_Nein_, save the abuse for later. You must be hungry."

"Well…"

He didn't wait for the rest of her sentence — the way she glanced down at her stomach was enough. Dropping a kiss on her cheek, he rose off the bed. "I will go downstairs and procure us some food. You can take a moment to freshen up. And," he added as he walked over to the door and pulled it open, "when I come back, I will tell you what my favourite food is and anything else you wish to know."

Ema tilted her head. "Anything?"

He flashed her a grin. "Well, you do wish to know me better, ja?"

"Yes," she said, suddenly suspicious of the cheeky glint in his eyes.

"In that case, which would you prefer? A measuring tape or a ruler?"

"Measuring— what?" she asked, confused.

Klavier pretended to look pensive for a moment. "A measuring tape is more flexible, I suppose. You may wish to know the diamet—"

"_KLAVIER __GAVIN_!" she yelled at the top of her lungs but it was too late.

He was already gone, leaving behind only an echo of his roaring laughter.

.'.

"Are you certain there is nothing more you would like?" Klavier said, lifting the tray off the bed and setting it aside on the bedside table. Ema, whose mouth was full, simply shook her head. She suddenly felt self-conscious under his scrutiny and lifted her hand to her mouth, half shielding it from him.

Klavier smiled in amusement at the gesture. "I do not see such manners when you ferociously munch your precious Snackoos."

"That's because I'm usually trying to drown you out," she said, swiping at his head. "Besides, don't remind me. I can't _believe_ they don't have them here."

"I, for one, am extremely grateful," Klavier said, relaxing against the pillows and interlocking his hands behind his head. "Finally, a respite from the Snackoo-ing!"

She glared at him. "I haven't pelted you with those in a while."

"_Ja_," he agreed, throwing her a cheeky grin, "but only because I have put all my energy into keeping you preoccupied. Now I can relax a little."

"Hey!" she cried, grabbing one of the pillows and pummelling him with it. Klavier laughed but instead of recoiling from the attack, he grabbed and tugged on it strategically so that Ema landed across him. Her insides lurched at the sudden movement and she gasped when Klavier's hands suddenly clamped around her arms to steady her.

"Careful, Fräulein," he said in a voice filled with laughter. "Somebody might think you were throwing yourself at me."

She glowered as he pushed her up, settling her against the pillows, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Only an idiot would think I would throw myself at you."

_What __does __that __make __you,__then_? a voice inside her suddenly asked as she remembered the times she had kissed him.

Ema flushed.

"Indeed," was all Klavier said as he lowered indulgent eyes on her. "After all, it is your aversion to me that makes you so different, ja?"

"I'm not even going to bother answering that," Ema said with a pout.

"Fine by me. It was a rhetorical question anyway," he said but before she could respond he looked down at her with a curious expression. "However, I do have another question."

Intrigued by his interest, Ema motioned an invitation. "Go on."

"You wished to know me better, ja?" he asked and waited until she nodded. "I propose a kind of cross-examination. I ask one question," he went on to explain when she looked confused, "and in return you may ask me one."

Ema looked interested. "That sounds like a good idea."

"I am imposing a penalty for unanswered questions," Klavier said warningly and Ema gave him an arched look.

"Penalty?"

He nodded. "Should you choose not to answer, you waiver your right to a question. Agreed?"

Ema felt a twinge of uneasiness but smothered it beneath a smirk. "You're turning this into a game."

To her surprise, he drew her closer until she could feel his smiling mouth on the sensitive area just below her ear.

"_You __can __push __me __away __but __I__'__ll __always __be __here_," he murmured, his voice wavering with melodic rhythm; his breath was hot against her skin. "_And __these __games __you __play __only __bring __me __near__…_"

Ema shivered.

"Do you accept?"

Afraid to look at him in case he saw his effect on her, she simply nodded. "Yeah."

"Ladies first, I believe."

Ema did look at him then, startled but he was smiling at her expectantly. Not having expected this, she fumbled around for a question in her mind.

"What _is_ your favourite kind of food?"

He simply grinned. "I do not think I have one although I must add that whenever I visit Paris, I am left craving for more of their exquisite cuisine."

"You've been to Paris?" she said.

"Ah, ah," Klavier chastised her with a wag of the finger. "It is my turn." Ema rolled her eyes but Klavier seemed to be considering something before finally looking at her again. "I have never heard you talk about college friends. Do you not keep in touch with them?"

She paused to ponder his question. "I wasn't all that sociable," she admitted. "College was about work for me. I had a few friends but they were more like acquaintances… So no, I don't keep in touch with them. And since I've moved back here, I've been too busy to socialise." She glanced up at Klavier sheepishly. "I guess you guys are my new friends."

"I hope I am a little more than that," he said with a slight tap to her nose.

"Yeah, you're a fop," Ema retorted, waving his hand away. "My turn. If you had one day to live, what would you do?"

His hand moved to rest atop her own and his thumb was tracing circles on her palm. "I would hold you in my arms till I breathed my last."

Her heart skipped a beat. The response was so unhesitant, the look on his face so intense, that Ema was frozen for a moment, her insides zinging with emotion.

"How do you like to celebrate your birthday?"

She was thankful he had broken the silence. "With my sister and friends."

He nodded. "Your turn."

"What is the most expensive gift you've ever bought for someone?"

"An interesting question," Klavier said, his expression thoughtful. "I believe it was the perfume I gifted Raina upon the announcement of her engagement."

Ema raised an eyebrow. "Should I even ask how much that was?"

"Let us say it was a 6-digit figure and leave it at that, ja?" Klavier laughed at the shock in Ema's face. "My turn. How close are you to your sister?"

The mention of Lana brought up one memory — the one when Ema had lied to her about what was going on. She lookeud at Klavier searchingly, wondering if his knowledge of her lie had made him curious about the strength of her relationship with Lana.

"She's been like a parent and sister," she told him. "Usually, I tell her everything but now—"

Klavier seemed to sense the defensiveness of her answer because he squeezed her hand and shook his head. "Ema, I am not judging you in any way. I was simply curious."

"You're not?"

He shook his head. "Not in the least."

She didn't realise how tensely she'd been waiting on his answer until her muscles relaxed and she smiled at him. "Thank you."

"It is not my place to judge you, Ema," he said softly. "And I respect you far too much to look down on you." He squeezed her hand again and dropped a kiss on her temple. "Your turn, liebling."

She reflected on his answer for a moment before posing her next question. "What do you consider the biggest drawback of your personality?"

His expression turned thoughtful for the merest second before turning almost guilty. "My intolerance to lies," he admitted. "I shut people out without giving them a chance to explain their motivations. It is what I did to Daryan — I judged him too quickly, too harshly."

"I don't think that's a drawback, Klavier," she said softly. "Nobody should have to tolerate dishonesty."

"True," he agreed. "Although, not all lies are told in evil. I often fail to understand that."

"If you failed to understand it, you wouldn't know there's anything to understand in the first place," she pointed out.

"Again, true," he said with a nod. "However, if I was confronted with a lie now, my judgemental instincts would no doubt take over."

Ema said nothing to that — her mind was on Phoenix and the knowledge Deston had confided in her. If it was true Kristoph had something to do with the forgery, did that mean he had also played on his brother's intolerance for dishonesty?

And what would Klavier do when he found out the truth?

"My turn," Klavier said, drawing her attention back to him. "What is the one thing you could never forgive?"

She didn't have to think about that one. "Manipulation."

"Manipulation?"

"I don't know if you ever heard…" She swallowed, unsure of herself, and looked at Klavier; he was watching her with a gentle expression. "When I was 15, there was a case—"

She stopped again, the uncertainty in her rising. Should she tell him? Would he judge Lana? Ema couldn't bear the thought. Her sister meant the world to her and if she was ever forced to choose between them…

"Ema," he said quietly, his fingers lacing with hers firmly. "I already know. Do not worry."

Her head snapped up; his expression hadn't changed. "You do?"

"Ja. I think your sister the strongest of women for enduring what she did."

She sagged with relief, her grip on him tightening. He knew. He knew and he didn't hate either of them and even though the strangeness of that registered dimly at the back of her mind (because hadn't he shown contempt for Phoenix for the forgery?), Ema smiled.

"She is. I owe Lana my life." She paused when Klavier looked as though he were going to say something but then he shook his head and motioned for her to continue. "I can never forgive manipulation because Gant almost destroyed our lives with it."

"That is understandable," Klavier nodded. "I am sorry you and your sister had to suffer his abuse."

Ema didn't know how to respond to that so she searched around for her next question. "What do you consider your greatest strength?"

Klavier smiled then, a genuine, tender smile that spread across his features. "My honesty. I have always strived to tell the truth." The barest hint of melancholy touched his expression. "It is my mother's legacy. It is the best way I know to honour her."

Ema's hold on him tightened but she said nothing — there was a faraway look in his eyes that told her he was thinking of his mother.

"She was an honest woman. She taught me to pursue the truth until the very end."

"I wish I could have met her," she said.

Klavier looked down at her. "She would have loved you, Ema."

"Even though I abuse you with my Snackoos?" she teased in an attempt to cheer him up.

He laughed. "Especially for that reason."

Ema wrapped an arm around his waist comfortingly and set her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. You obviously miss her a lot."

"I do," he said softly. "I suppose, in that way, we are a lot alike. You must miss your parents too."

"Yeah," Ema said quietly, the thoughts of faceless parents sweeping through her mind; the truth was that despite the fact that he would understand her pain at their memory, she didn't want to talk about them. So she forced herself to smile. "Your turn, fop."

Klavier tilted his head. "Very well. What would you do if your sister disapproved of me?"

Ema's insides jolted at the question because her mind recognised the intent behind it: he wanted to know how much she cared about him.

"It would be inconvenient," she admitted, thinking about how she would handle her sister's disapproval. "But she would understand that it's my life and I make my own decisions."

Something in his carefully constructed expression shifted. "And what would your decision be?"

"This," Ema answered, squeezing back the fingers laced around hers.

"You would disregard her opinion?"

"Not disregard, exactly," she disagreed. "But I would remind her that if I'm old enough to chase criminals, I'm old enough to choose who I want to see."

Klavier nodded, a slight smile on his face. "She could not argue with such logic, ja?"

"Don't bet on it," she countered, her face suddenly alive with proud laughter. "She wasn't the Chief Prosecutor for nothing, you know."

"I suppose you are correct," he acceded with a laugh of his own.

"My turn," Ema said and he gestured for her to go on. "What do you consider your greatest achievement to date?"

It was a few seconds after she'd posed the question that she realised just what it was she had set the grounds for and her heart sank — if Klavier mentioned Phoenix's disbarring now, Ema knew that she would slap him and stride out of the hotel. If he showed even an ounce of pleasure or arrogance at having brought down the man who'd given her back her family and her life, Ema knew she would never talk to him again.

"Solving Gale's case," Klavier said, oblivious to the way her narrowed eyes were trained on him; he was staring away, his gaze unfocused though his hand continued to grasp hers. "It has changed my life."

Ema flushed in shame.

She'd done the very thing she'd accused his friends of doing: judging Klavier. Even before he'd said a word, she had assumed the worst of him. Yes, it was true that he didn't hold Phoenix in the highest esteem but how could she imagine that the disbarring of an attorney would give him any sort of pleasure?

"_Liebling_?" he murmured, his voice suddenly in her ear. "Why the anguished look?"

She looked at him, suddenly feeling guilty and knew that she couldn't let him know she'd doubted him. The last thing he — _they_— needed was to argue or develop misunderstandings when they were living on borrowed time. It was a humbling thought. She lowered her gaze and looked at their joined hands for a second. Usually she chose to ignore the overhanging shadow that lurked wherever they went because they both knew that Irina was looking for her, that she was dangerous and that she wanted Ema dead at all costs. The fact that they didn't know why only made the situation worse because they had no way to negotiate no way to think the situation out or any way to predict her next move. They were sitting ducks waiting for the lion to come claim them for the prey they had become.

If Irina managed, did Ema really want her memory to induce doubt and uncertainty in Klavier? Did she want the others to one day find him the same way they'd found Deston only a few weeks ago? The thought was unbearable. They had told her about Raina and here she was about to lay the foundation for the destruction that had almost consumed Deston. There was no way she would repeat that same horror, no way she would leave Klavier with these memories no matter what her own misgivings were. She was not going to add to any sorrow he may suffer at her death, would not aid Irina in being successful in her mission to destroy them no matter what. Ema was above that. Ema had learnt the value of life a long time ago and she would not, under any circumstances, forget it.

So, throwing her guilt to the wayside, Ema turned to Klavier and shook her head. "I feel sad whenever I think about Gale."

"You two acted like you'd known each other forever," Klavier said, his tone curious.

"Is that your question?" Ema said, somewhat stalling the conversation to decide whether or not she wanted to answer it.

She half expected him to say no because it was a rather insignificant question (as far as he was concerned anyway) but he only looked down at her, his eyes boring into hers and then nodded firmly, as if he knew exactly how important it was. "I suppose it is."

She hesitated, remembering she could just choose not to answer but she knew there was no way she could do that without revealing she was hiding something and it would probably look worse than it actually was if he was left to guess the reason for it. And why did she want to keep it from him anyway? Yes, the truth was a bit strange (one she wasn't quite sure of herself) but so was Maya's mystical ability to call on the dead and he had no trouble dealing with that.

It wasn't something Ema had thought of often because her scientific mind would want to take it apart and blow it out of the water, no matter how well she knew some things in the world _couldn__'__t_be explained away with cold, hard logic. However, every so often, she couldn't help remembering that when she'd seen Gale in that execution room, she'd known her instantly. Perhaps the recognition had been there since Klavier had admitted to his suicide attempt but her mind hadn't acknowledged it until she'd actually seen Gale physically standing before her — she was the one who'd been in her dreams.

"Ema?"

"I dreamt about her," she said, the words now tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I dreamt about Gale before I even knew about her."

He looked slightly taken aback by her response. "What was it?"

"I…" Ema swallowed.

Would Klavier think she was lying if she told him? Or would he believe her?

"There was a beach. You were—"

She licked her lips, her teeth biting into the flesh nervously, and tried again.

"You were walking into the water. I was trying to stop you but you weren't listening to what I was saying and then she was there, telling me to s–save you."

A silence followed her revelation and Ema stole a glance at him, fully expecting some form of annoyance, maybe even anger. However, Klavier's surprised visage had turned into a contemplative one and he was looking at the space between them, a thoughtful frown between his eyes. She was comforted by his proximity and it was only when his fingers fastened around hers in a firm grasp that she noticed he hadn't let go of her.

Ema exhaled in relief.

"That is how you knew," Klavier said in quiet voice, a wonderment to his tone. She looked at him inquisitively. "When I tried telling you what I had almost done," he explained, his eyes on hers now, "you guessed. You knew I had tried to drown myself. It seemed strange to me at the time…"

"You believe me?" she blurted out, so taken aback by his unquestioning acceptance that she barely realised he'd pulled her closer.

"Ema," he said, his voice pacifying. "I have seen far too much of the unknown to doubt it simply because I do not understand it. Besides, I know you would not lie to me."

Incredulous, Ema could say nothing else. Klavier was rubbing her back now, his fingers working away the tension and their eyes were locked, his unblinking and unwavering beneath her searching gaze. He believed her.

He _believed _her.

"It was twice, you know," she told him, leaning back against his shoulder as the tension ebbed away. "Both times it was the same thing."

His hand swept over her hair and a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "I had no idea you dreamt about me, Fräulein."

"Shut up."

"It's your turn, Ema."

"My— Oh, right." Her mind groped for another question. "What do you want to be remembered for?"

"The truth," Klavier said, his response strong. "The truth above all else."

Ema nodded. "I respect you for that. I think you're probably the only prosecutor I've known who doesn't turn his career into a competition."

Klavier smiled. "A person's life is at stake. Justice cannot be taken lightly. I could not live with myself if I wrongly accused someone simply to enhance my reputation."

Ema winced at the words, Phoenix flashing through her mind momentarily. However, Klavier seemed to barely notice. "Your turn," she said, changing the subject.

"How do you describe me to others?"

She rolled her eyes. "The fop is back in business, I see," she remarked, ignoring his laughter though she suspected that dispelling the seriousness in the atmosphere had been his intent. "You know how I describe you: the glimmerous fop."

Klavier grinned. "Three words to describe me, Fräulein."

"The. Glimmerous. Fop."

"Three adjectives," he tried again, wagging a finger. "And you answer cannot involve either 'glimmerous' or 'fo—'"

"Alright," she said, cutting him off. "Honest. Charming. And…" She hesitated again, torn between the array of adjectives in her head. "I'd have to say brave."

Klavier smiled at her when she looked at him. "_Danke_. I am pleased with your assessment of me."

She rolled her eyes again, trying to distract him from the faint blush spreading on her cheeks. "It's my turn. What three words would _you_ use to describe _me_?"

"Beautiful. Amazing. Fearless." She blushed but he scarcely paused to register it, as if the answer had barely needed thinking about nor that it might fluster her. "When do you think about me the most?"

"When don't I?" Ema said somewhat grumpily (because she was irritated that he'd managed to embarrass her) and then realised what she'd said; her eyes flew up to his face and found that he was smirking at her. "What I meant was, you're either playing Casanova or harassing me at work. There's really no taking a break from you."

"Very well," was all he said but the way he was still grinning told her he didn't believe her.

"My turn," she said in a haste to change the subject. "What has been your most generous act of charity yet?"

Klavier looked intrigued. "That is a rather unexpected question, Ema," he said.

She shrugged. "The media always makes you sound like you're all money-throwing playboys and I don't think you are. Not that charity only comes in the form of money."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," he said and she looked up to see if he was being sarcastic but his expression was sincere. "It bodes well for us."

"I hope you're not offended."

"Nein, not at all," Klavier said reassuringly. "Though I must confess that it is a rather personal question — one I hesitate to answer."

A pang of insecurity hit her. "You don't have to answer if you—"

His fingers were at her lips almost instantly, hushing her. "Allow me to rephrase: I do not know _how_ to answer the question without sounding arrogant. After all, is the silence that accompanies the offering not a part of the charity?"

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Ema admitted. "I suppose it's not the best question to ask you."

"Nein," Klavier said again, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. "I do not mind. I simply have no idea how much in charity has gone out. I can only tell you that for every million I earn, 20 % is redirected to charities and rehabilitation centres."

"Rehabilitation?"

"Ja," he said with a nod. "Youth rehabilitation centres. If children can be helped before they develop a permanently corrupt state of mind, perhaps the crime rates will drop and the success of the country will rise. It is a cycle and I aim to break it."

"So… So…" Ema stopped, her mind churning over the math of his answer. "You pay out two hundred thousand dollars per year?"

Klavier considered her for a moment as if he was wondering whether or not he should voice what he was thinking. "No, Ema," he said as casually as he could. "It is two hundred thousand for every million I make."

She frowned. "What's the difference?"

"Well…" He actually looked uncomfortable and the sight was so strange (because he rarely lost his composure) that it only added to her own unease. "I earn more than a million a year, Ema."

The statement made her jerk with realisation and Klavier, who might have been anticipating such a reaction, loosened his grip on her, his expression slightly wary. "How much _do_you make?"

He stared at her, the guardedness of his expression heightening. "Ema… Are you sure you want to know?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Ema said, her voice somewhat choked.

"Are you certain?" he asked, ignoring her question.

Ema paused. She'd known he was wealthy in much the same way she knew she needed oxygen to survive — the knowledge was there at the back of her mind. However, now that it was being thoroughly examined, her mind was telling her that she didn't really want to know what he was worth because it would only remind her that he was a world famous prosecutor and rock star who had accomplished more in his 24 years than she ever could in a lifetime.

But the logical side of her also knew that she would then be plagued by thoughts of his wealth, constantly trying to guess how much he made and running herself aground with paranoia.

"Yeah," Ema said, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I want to know."

He sighed and nodded. "Very well. Since I respect the boys' privacy, I will only reveal my current net worth. Is that acceptable?" Ema nodded in agreement. "I'm not certain of the exact amount but it is at around 635 million dollars."

Ema blanched as she stared at him, his voice going round and round in her head, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.

635 million dollars.

_635 million dollars?_

He's the lead vocalist for the Gavinners. What did you think he made?

_I don't know. I was too busy being hunted down by demented ringleaders and…_

Ema stopped mid-thought, the content of her cogitations hitting her like a freight train. The juxtaposition of those two things suddenly made his wealth so insignificant she was shocked she had even let it affect her. After all, what did his riches matter if she wasn't going to be around for them?

It was so absurd that a bubble of horrified laughter raced up her throat and escaped her lips.

"Ema?" His alarm dragged her attention back to him, the sound of his voice ringing oddly in her ears. He was looking at her as if he wished he hadn't answered her question. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." She shook her head. "Sorry. I guess I wasn't expecting that. It's… impressive."

It was obvious he knew there was more to it than she was letting on but instead of questioning her further (because really, what else could he do?) he just moved closer to her, his hand taking hers again. "It is my turn, I believe."

Ema only nodded.

_635 million dollars…_

"How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

"_What?__" _Klavier's only response was a grin and she narrowed her eyes at him, the flush creeping up her neck and wrapping around her cheeks. It occurred to her somewhere in the back of her mind that he'd probably asked her such a bold question to distract her from the shock of his answer — and he'd succeeded admirably. "How did _you_ know I wasn't a virgin?"

Maybe it was just her but Klavier's smile seemed to diminish. "I did not."

The pink of her cheeks deepened into a light shade of red when she realised she'd fallen into his trap and was too embarrassed to even be thankful that the drawn curtains darkened the room, shielding her from the full extent of his stare. "Fop," she grumbled.

"Indeed," he said with some amusement. "A fop still waiting on your answer."

"I pass." She refused to answer such a personal question.

And she didn't want to talk about her sex life with him anyway.

"My turn," she said hastily. "What—"

"Ah, ah," Klavier interrupted her, his voice still calm though somewhat less impish than before; he was looking down at her with a curious expression, tinged with…

…annoyance?

"Remember the penalty: if you do not answer, you forfeit your right to the next question," he reminded her.

Ema pouted. "Fine."

"Are you absolutely certain you do not want to answer the question?" Klavier said quietly, drawing her in, this time making certain that she was pressed against him intimately. She could see his curiosity was piqued and he was trying to entice her into answer him.

She swallowed a little nervously, somehow managing to hold on to her sarcasm. "Is that your next question?"

Klavier laughed softly, his arms snaking around her waist. "Nein, it is not."

"Then get on with it, fop."

She knew she was probably acting a little too indignant for someone spending a week with her boyfriend in another country but Ema was so completely taken aback by his question, flustered by the possibility of where that train of thought could lead that she didn't want to answer it. Would he want her? Could she even compare to the girlfriends she'd seen him with?

_Well, I know the answer to THAT._

The truth was, she'd regretted the circumstances under which she'd given up her innocence. It didn't consume her but she knew that she'd been too rash then, too confused by the plethora of hormones driving her insane to realise what she was doing. Now she was a young woman who understood the intimacy of such an act. To think of it with Klavier…

She blushed.

Is that what he wanted? Is that what he expected? What would he do if she said no?

Did she _want_ to say no?

And when she posed the question to herself, the silence of her response took her aback. It neither encouraged nor discouraged her. Ema looked up at him: Klavier's eyes were back to their entwined hands. She studied him through passion-coloured eyes for the first time: his features, which had always been so handsome to her, were now glorious. Suddenly, the man she'd been so content abusing for the past year was a complete stranger to her — an intimidating mix of polished sophistication and golden, sexy looks. Women purred around him which only seemed to amuse him because more often than not she'd seen him smile at them, his hand lifting in a casual wave of salutation that she had always considered arrogant. Yet now, as he lay beside her, Ema could have sworn there was no real egotism in this man.

He wasn't her type. He was too rich and too famous, too devastatingly handsome and too crushingly cool. Despite his amiable appearance, there was something about him that was far too enigmatic. He surprised her, surprised them all, because even the boys had a hard time predicting his reaction. And yet, she wanted him. Despite the difference in their personalities, despite the fact that they'd only been together a while, she felt like she knew him, _understood_ him.

Ema let the feel of him register: his fingers were pressing into the sliver of her back that had become exposed in all the movement and the warmth of his touch seeped into her skin. There was something so comforting in his embrace, in his touch, that she didn't just want him to keep his hand there — she wanted more.

"What do I have to do to keep you in my life forever?"

His voice was suddenly at her ear, barely above a whisper, and the feel of his breath on her face made Ema shiver. He hadn't been there a few seconds ago. She turned to him, her eyes wide as her mind battled to choose which to process first — his sudden proximity or his question. The burning blue heat of his gaze was making it difficult to decide.

"What?" she said softly.

"What do I have to do to make you mine forever?" he murmured.

_Make me your wife?_

Ema jerked at the thought and her eyes widened. What the hell was she thinking? How had she jumped from trying to figure out how much he meant to her to wanting to be his wife?

"How do I answer that?" she said, needing to distract herself from her own illogical thoughts.

Instead of being annoyed (which is what she'd expected as this was the second time she'd ignored his question), Klavier smiled and tightened his arms around her. "You already did." Before she could interrogate him on this enigmatic statement, he dropped a kiss on her lips. "Your turn."

_Let it drop. You got off easy on that one. Fop. Why is he making me uncomfortable? Maybe I should turn the tables…_

"Have you slept with women before?" she asked bluntly.

Her attempt to make him squirm was shot dead instantly; Klavier simply nodded. "Ja, I have."

"Oh. Okay."

_Well, that worked out well._

"My turn," Klavier said without skipping a beat. "Are you the jealous type?"

Ema laughed a little, the first genuine laugh untouched by nervousness. "No, I'm not. I hope you weren't expecting that."

"It _would_ be amusing to watch," he admitted with a laugh of his own. "I would be very flattered."

"I bet you would," Ema said with a roll of her eyes. "It's my turn: how many women have you made love to then?"

Klavier answered instantly. "None."

Ema rolled her eyes. "You just said you've slept around with women."

"Ja," he agreed with a nod. "I did."

"Then how can you—"

"I said I slept with them, Ema," he said quietly, smiling down at her as if she was missing the point. "Not 'made love.'"

"You've lost me," she said dumbfounded.

To her utter surprise, Klavier leaned in, his hand slipping beneath her shirt. "I have slept with women but made love to none."

"What's the difference?" Ema forced the words out, trying not to focus on the way his fingers were slowly tracing the length of her spine, the movement of his arm inadvertently pulling up her shirt and revealing more and more of her skin.

He smiled then, a slow, seductive smile, and drew her in so that the remaining distance between them was gone. "There is all the difference in the world, Ema," he murmured, his face hovering over hers. "When you sleep with someone, it is to satisfy your body's cravings but when you make _love_ to someone…" His head dipped and he swept his lips across her mouth lightly. "When you make love, you dance to the song in your soul." He pulled back to lock gaze with her again. "And you strum the strings of my heart to make a melody I _cannot_ resist."

Ema's breath caught in her throat and she looked into those eyes that were welcoming her in, compelling her to wind her arms around his neck with shivering certainty. He watched her motionlessly when her fingers disappeared into his hair; she didn't know if he was answering to the unintentional pull of her fingers or if the invitation was in her gaze but Klavier's frame slid over hers. He was directly above her, holding himself up with one arm while the other was trapped beneath her back, his fingers never really ceasing their crusade on her spine.

Her lips parted under a rush of breath that was almost instantly swallowed by his invading mouth. The kiss was all fire and passion — he descended on her without warning, the kiss annihilating all thought from her mind and commanding sensation to rule. Her hands travelled down the expanse of his chest and wrapped around his waist, her fingers following his example and slipping under his shirt. How could she have ever needed to think about wanting this man? she wondered, marvelling at his hard-muscled frame. She thought she'd seen a man's passion but she was wrong; his kiss was hot and needy and probing and he was exposing her to the kind of burning desire she had only ever heard whispered in the farthest reaches of her dreams. Until now his kisses had been tender and warm and comfortable. Now, as his hand slid down her leg and drew it over his hip, he pulled her into a world of dangerous allure where she knew they could climb so high that the fall would last forever.

"_Ema…"_

The sound of her own name had never sounded so sensual: it was lost in the swirl of breathing between their mouths, muffled as his lips travelled down the curved column of her neck. She should have stopped him there, should have known that to arch and shiver against a man would tip him over the edge but she didn't care. She threw her head back, closing her eyes and surrendering herself to the sensation. His hands were gliding everywhere, caressing and getting to know her body. His kisses rained down on her like electrical drops, blistering the skin as they fell and setting her nerves on fire.

A loud groan escaped him and he pulled away, his body shuddering; Ema looked at him, wave upon wave of emotion rushing through her, and saw that Klavier had lifted himself up to rest on his arms. His head was lowered, his eyes squeezed shut and she could see a flash of white between parted lips — he was taking deep, steadying breaths through clenched teeth.

Ema hesitated then reached up to touch his cheek, afraid to say anything. She felt his jaw tighten under her touch and for a moment she pulled away, not knowing what was wrong with him, if he objected to her touch.

"No."

He said the word the same way he inhaled — through gritted teeth. Ema's confusion heightened, not knowing what he was disputing but then his eyes opened, the oceanic pools spilling over her like scalding water: the desire bubbling in them seared her.

"No what?" she whispered.

"Ema—"

He'd barely said a word before another, more violent shudder wracked his body, eliciting a louder groan this time. Klavier's eyes squeezed together again and then he wrenched himself away entirely, rolling onto his back with a sound of protest as if the movement was a barely won battle between his body and his mind. He landed next to her with a heavy thump, rocking the bed a little and she turned to look at him, frowning at the way he swung an arm over his eyes. She wanted to say his name, ask him what was wrong, but insecurity lodged the question in her throat.

It was as if he knew that her self-consciousness was rising because his other arm slipped under her back and pulled her though he kept his face covered. "I do not want to do something you are not ready for," Klavier murmured, the words drawn out tensely. "It is not something that should just—" he took a deep breath as if to calm himself "—_happen_."

Ema relaxed when his meaning registered and she curled into him, trying to calm down as much as she could, to disguise the roughness of her breathing. She put an arm around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. For a while they just lay there, neither of them talking, and it was only when Klavier's breathing evened out that the possibility of conversation descended on them — he was the one to take it, the arm slung across his face leaving to wrap around her too.

"Have I upset you?" he whispered.

Ema laughed, half out of relief and half out of amusement. "I should be upset, shouldn't I?"

"But you are not?"

"No," she said truthfully. "I appreciate the fact that you care that much."

Klavier turned, his mouth falling to her hair in a soft kiss. "I care about you more than you know, Ema."

Unexpectedly, her heart sank, because the words coming out of his mouth suddenly didn't measure up to what was inside her. _Care_wasn't the same as love — and love was what was in _her_ soul. She was so unsettled by this new insecurity, this new need that had arisen inside her, that Ema didn't say anything in response, didn't even have the frame of mind to wonder if he expected some acknowledgement of his emotions or an admission of her own. In the light of all the impending doom, Ema's thoughts seemed darker than normal and she swallowed, her throat working convulsively to remove the lump that had grown at its back.

_Was she going to die unloved?_

"May I make an observation without upsetting you?" he said, oblivious to her feelings.

"Yeah," she said, welcoming the distraction — now wasn't the time to sort through her emotions. She needed some solitude to organise her thoughts.

Klavier shifted to look at her from his position but she merely glanced at him before turning on her back and closing her eyes. "You did not reject me. Am I right in believing you would not have if I…?"

_If I hadn't stopped?_

Her first instinct was to lie. She thought about telling him that the only reason she didn't stop him was because she didn't know how far he wanted to go but the truth was she knew exactly what he'd had in mind (how could she not, given the question that had started it?) and she'd known just how far he was thinking.

If she started lying to him now, where would it take them? If she started hiding things from him, what would get left unsaid if something happened to her?

"No," she said quietly. "I wouldn't have stopped you."

His hand moved to her shoulder, his caress moving back and forth across over it. "Why?"

Ema flushed at the question, not knowing how to admit how much she loved him, how much she wanted him. How could she tell him that she wanted to be his for as long as she lived? That she would willingly give her life for him simply because it was already his? How could she tell him that her every thought seemed somehow suspended between his existence and hers?

She couldn't. He would think she was obsessed. He didn't care about her that much.

_These are not the words of an angry man. This is the promise of a lover. And my love will never die._

What…?

The words came out of nowhere, as if her subconscious had been harbouring them just for this moment; his vow from that day resounded as if he'd suddenly leaned in and screamed it in her ear. Ema stiffened for a moment as she heard the words again, realising for the first time that not only did he care about her, he'd told her he loved her _weeks_ ago. She had been so caught up in trying to keep him safe, to make him believe they couldn't be together, that the admission hadn't dawned on her. He loved her.

He _loved_her.

But did he love her as much as she loved him?

_Are you insane? Of course he does._

How did she know that?

_Because when you went missing, he came for you. _

She couldn't deny that: when she'd been in hospital, he'd stayed by her. Every time she needed him, he was there.

_Because he's shown you patience, tenderness and consideration. _

It was true: when she'd been giving in, he'd pulled away for her. When she had become upset because she didn't know enough about him, he'd talked to her.

_You don't know where life will take you. There's no time for insecurities and procrastination — tomorrow is a gift you have no guarantee of receiving._

Ema's body seemed to no longer be listening to her brain; it shifted until she was closer to Klavier and her arms embraced him, drawing strength from his nearness and his response.

_Take a chance that your heart is right._

"I wouldn't stop you because I want you," she heard herself say quietly and paused, wanting to see how he'd received her answer but he barely reacted — his hand continued to sift through her hair. "I want you every way I know how."

Klavier reached to touch her face and he tilted it till she was looking up at him. She would have found it difficult to look into his eyes if he was anyone else, if it wasn't for the words that had battled long and hard to make it to the threshold of her lips — everything was so perfect, so well timed, so _right_that Ema didn't hesitate.

"I love you," she whispered softly.

And almost as if he'd been waiting for those exact words, Klavier engulfed her in his arms and seized her lips in a kiss trembling with so many emotions, she barely had a second to be disheartened by the unreciprocated revelation.

"_Ema__…"_ he whispered into her mouth. His voice was shivering and on fire with something far more powerful than the drugging desire that had driven him before; this was all-consuming, devastating. It ravaged the fabrics of her being.

It drew out the wings of her soul.

Even if she'd had a moment to be crushingly disappointed, Ema realised later, it wouldn't have lasted long. Klavier took her face in his hands, his eyes burning through her with the force of a thousand suns, his mouth racing across hers.

And with one heavy breath, he laid to waste all of her fear and doubts.

"I love you too."


	3. Catch

Hey guys! Long time. Let me start off by apologising for the abysmally late update. I've been hopping continents a while and life in general got in the way. But now I'm back and I'm aiming to make the updates more regular. I am also working on an original novel which I aim to release soon so Nightfall is my one and only priority fanfic-wise. I might update AGF now and then but I will be focusing solely on Weeping Moonlight.

I struggled like hell with this chapter since it covers multiple subplots leading up to... well, the end of this chapter. There's no doubt in my mind that WM will be the most difficult of this trilogy since it starts wrapping up all the stories that have developed in AD & MS. Nevertheless, I hope with your support I can do this well.

As is customary, I apologise if this chapter doesn't meet your expectations. I tried to include a little of something for everyone and for once, we see all the Gavinners in one chapter. I generally don't like to include dates but if you pay attention and remember the events from Apollo Justice, I think you'll understand. As usual, the poems, OCs, original plot belong to me.

Time to get this moving again, ja?

I would like to dedicate this chapter to two friends. Happy (belated in once case) birthday, Doodles and Jaz! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p><span>Catch<span>

.'.

One hand extended to your shade,

Her eyes refusing to meet your own,

Fingers steady, unafraid,

Her mouth closed, set as stone.

'.'

**25****th**** September 2026**

"What's that?"

Raoul looked at Deston, his brow furrowing. He leaned back into the seat and held out the piece of paper in his hand while turning to look out of the small, darkened window, his eyes sweeping the thick layer of clouds beneath them. Deston rose from his seat, reaching across to sweep up the dirtied note.

"I set the snake of destruction on—" He stopped mid-mutter and looked at the red-head. "This is the note we found at the warehouse."

"I kept it," Raoul explained, turning to Deston; the dim light of the cabin enhancing the shadows of thrown across his frowning face. "I had it tested for everything. Aside from the material of the paper, the chemicals and our fingerprints, there ain't nothin' else to be had."

"Then why do you still have it?"

He leaned back, his green eyes losing their intensity for the slightest moment as frustrated confusion took him. "Because I feel like I'm missin' somethin'."

Deston quirked an eyebrow. "Want to share?"

"Do I need to? _Look at it!_" He flicked a hand at the note in annoyance. "It's a mocking riddle! We were meant to find the damn thing! She knew we would search it and at some point she wrote it and left it there for us to find. And she didn't write it like a conventional bitch either, oh no—" Raoul leaned forward, his eyes hard with anger now as he glared at the paper in Deston's hand. "No, she took the time out to write it with a fuckin' _chemical_. I want to know _why_ and I want to know what that message means!"

"I think it's become blatantly clear Irina will only let us know what we want to know when _she_ wants it," Deston said calmly.

Raoul looked at him, his expression settling into a deep examination of his friend. "She's only human. She can't predict every factor of my decision making."

Deston tore his eyes away from the paper and handed it back to Raoul, his eyes still neutral. "Human? I don't think so, Ray." His silver gaze turned to the window again as he stared at his own reflection. "She's as inhuman as they come."

"I ain't gonna scully you there," Raoul said with a low growl. "But the bigger the monster, the easier it is to track it down."

He almost contradicted Raoul then but realised there was little use in doing so: in the end, they _would _find Irina – no matter what it took. Even if required the rest of his natural life, Deston would track her down.

"Sometimes, I wonder…" He looked at Raoul who stared back at him stonily. "Who hates her more? Me… Or you?"

"Does it really matter?" Raoul scoffed. "In the end, we both want her head."

The drummer let out a whoosh of air and smiled at his friend. "I guess it's a race then."

"A race to what?" the Italian snapped.

"To see who kills Irina first — me or you."

Raoul's anger seemed to deflate for a moment as he regarded Deston. "We'll avenge Raina together," he said quietly.

"No..." Deston contradicted, shaking his head and looking up at Raoul with a quiet kind of determination in his eyes. "We'll save Ema together."

.'.

**30****th**** September 2026**

Seren was the quietest and sweetest Gavinner. The fans knew this because that was what the media had marked him as: The Gentleman Gavinner.

His friends, however, knew better than to label him so simply. His silence was not a lack of sociability but a side-effect of his most powerful attribute — his perceptiveness. His uncanny ability to see through the clouding 'what-ifs' of everyday life meant that the other Gavinners always deferred to his judgement and rarely questioned his decisions.

So when Seren decided to stay back rather than travel with Raoul and Deston to Italy, neither asked him why. There was no point — Seren wouldn't even lie to throw them off the scent. He was an honest man and had always told them he would not answer their questions when he didn't want to. It was in light of this awareness that both had simply nodded in acknowledgement of his decision and left. After all there was a bond of trust between the Gavinners; they were not going to doubt one another's purpose or intellect.

"Good morning, Mr Aded," said a guard as he passed. Seren nodded, pushing open another door and turning down towards solitary confinement. There was a sense of urgency in the way he walked that any of his bandmates would have noticed instantly; it was a brisk walk, his fists unclenching every time they curled inadvertently from the tension. His usual, deceivingly warm look was hacked away by dread, making the light blue of his eyes almost icy.

He wanted answers. And he was going to get them, no matter what they were.

He reached his destination and swiped a card through the device on the wall. He waited for the accepting bleep and then pushed it, slowly walking down the hall leading to Simon's cell. The man was lying on his bed, an arm over his face, either asleep or ignoring his visitor. Seren walked quietly, his footsteps echoing in the silence, and stared through the bars waiting with more patience than his body was displaying. After several moments, Simon shifted and his tall frame rose, his feet falling to the ground as he sat up.

"Well, this is an unexpected surprise. It's usually the blonde kid who pays me a visit," he smirked, looking at Seren.

"May I come in?" Seren asked quietly, gesturing at the cell.

"I know it's unconventional asking you this since it is my abode but do you have the key?" Simon said.

At this point, Seren would have chuckled, politely obliging the joke — instead he reached into his jacket, unzipping it and yanked out a chain from which a single key dangled.

"I had no idea they were giving out such easy access to my cell," Simon said, watching Seren pull the chain off his neck and slip the key into the lock.

"Just me," Seren reassured him, opening the door and stepping inside. "It's a precautionary measure."

Simon shrugged, seemingly not interested in what sort of safeguards required Seren to possess a key to the cell. He said nothing as the Gavinner dragged a chair from the corner and settled it a few feet away from the bed, dropping into it casually. He tucked the key inside his jacket again, his eyes fixed intently on Lowes.

"You look like a man with a purpose, Mr Aded," Simon said, leaning back in his seat.

Seren leaned forward, his elbows falling against his knees, his hands entwining and his sharp eyes scrutinising Simon. "I would say a question rather than a purpose, Mr Lowes."

"A question." Simon arched a brow. "Singular?"

"What are you hiding from us?"

There was none of the protest that usually sprung from the mouths of the accused; Simon's expression remained stoic as he regarded the young Gavinner. "Something you don't want to know, kid."

"Would it help us to accomplish our goal faster?"

"Yes," Simon answered bluntly.

"Will it help us protect Ema?"

A pause. "Possibly."

"Then I want to know," Seren told him calmly, not looking away.

"No…" Simon said slowly. "I don't think you do."

"You don't know me, Mr Lowes," Seren said steadily.

"I know _of_ you," was the swift response. "And I know you don't want to know."

Seren remained undeterred; those shrewd eyes swept Simon's features for a few seconds. "This has something to do with Rafael."

"Yes."

"And, by extension, the crime ring," Seren continued guessing, staring at Simon.

"Indeed."

"So, I'll find out the truth anyway."

Simon's mouth thinned, as if he wasn't quite pleased with the way Seren's questions had turned the argument. "You will."

"Then tell me now," Seren urged. "Tell me and save us all a lot of trouble."

The Latino let out a sigh of frustration, suddenly standing up. He moved away, slowly starting to pace back and forth across the concrete floor. Seren made no move to acknowledge this anxious response except to lean back and stare at the older man, his face carefully expressionless. He was patient: he knew this agitation signalled a revelation.

"It doesn't just affect Gavin's girl," Simon said, stopping abruptly to look at Seren. "It affects everyone. And not for the better."

"In what way?"

"While there's a chance it may save Ema's life," he explained, "there is also the chance that it might endanger her."

"She's already at risk," the Brit pointed out. "I don't think she can be in anymore danger."

"_That_ remark, _right there_!" Simon snapped unexpectedly, pointing at Seren, "_that_ remark is what tells me you _can't _handle the truth."

The Gavinner was unstirred. "Speaking the truth displays naivety?"

"Do you seriously think this is the worst Rafael's kid can do?" Simon demanded, grimacing. "You think she's putting everything she has into killing Ema?"

"Judging from your reaction, apparently not."

"What you're asking me affects everyone," the Latino said in a calmer tone but he was pacing again. "Directly, personally — Cavatin, Klavier, that hot-headed Italian, Gavin's brother — it even affects you!"

The Brit remained admirably unperturbed by this admission. "I understand that, Simon," he said, dropping the formality with a sense of resolve. "I gathered as much when I realised you and your friends were keeping something from us."

"We're doing it to protect everyone."

"Gale is dead," Seren said calmly, ignoring the way Simon's jaw clenched. "You are behind bars. Kade is in witness protection. David is the only one able to help anyone and he can't do it alone."

"You'd be surprised what he can do," Simon muttered.

"I've read his file. I still say he can't do this alone."

The older man regarded him for several long moments, as if he was churning something over in his mind. "No," he said, shaking his head again. "Sorry kid. Can't risk it."

Seren stood up, his usually approachable frame now growing as if he was done playing games — he took a step toward Simon, his eyes still calm but harder with determination than ever before.

"I've watched one friend lose his fiancée. Another's wife is in the hospital. You should know what it's like to lose someone you care about! I will _not _stand idly by and watch Klavier lose Ema." He took another step closer. "One of us should know and I promise you that whatever you have to tell me, I _can_ handle. You can count on my silence."

"I told you. It affects you as well."

Seren ran a shaking fingers through his hair, bunching it up in his hand. It looked like he was fighting for control of himself. "You don't know me. I'm telling you, I can handle whatever you give me."

"You're right, Seren," he said. "I don't know you. I don't know if I can believe you when you tell me you—"

"_God damn it man!" _Seren exploded all of a sudden, launching himself at Simon; he grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, his voice booming. _"I had to kill my brother to save a stranger! You think I can't handle anything else?"_

Simon didn't defend himself against the attack even though he was several inches taller. Instead, he stared down into the Brit's face with a dawning look of understanding. There was a long instant in which Seren's eyes flashed with anger and he only stared into them, a look of pity washing over his own features — and then he nodded. It appeared as though the submissive gesture was lost on Seren because he didn't let go, a wild look of fury still hardening his face — but then Simon took hold of his wrists and tugged.

"You've made your point," he said coolly.

His voice seemed to break Seren out of his trance: his hands immediately slackened and his eyes dimmed, the blue melting into light puddles of indifference. He took a few steps back, his fists falling to his side. Simon stared at him with a calculating look and straightened his shirt, moving forward, and without waiting or asking for an apology, he gestured at the chair.

"I'll tell you."

.'.

**1****st**** October 2026**

"_They disappeared?" _

"_Aded is the only one left."_

"_I know they're good. I thought you were better, Leo."_

"_Ouch. That hurt, sis."_

"_Where's Skye?"_

"_With one of them, probably."_

"_I see. And what are you doing about it?"_

"_Nothing."_

"…_I have too much faith in you to imagine that's out of laziness."_

"_Aha ha! If I wasn't your brother, I would be afraid for my life."_

"_I'm not amused."_

"_Chill out, Irina. I discovered something new."_

"_I wait with baited breath."_

"_Wright's trial simulation is ready to hit the courtroom. It seems he's been ready for quite some time."_

"_Tauraize tell you this?"_

"_Yeah. Looks like he's trying to pave the yellow brick road."_

"_And he's got the wrong colour bricks."_

"_Indeed."_

"_So this is why they got away — because you were too busy watching The Wizard Of Oz."_

"_There's that ice again. You send shivers down my spine, sis."_

"_I told you to keep an eye on them. Do you—"_

"_Irina, put your anger aside and think about what I'm saying. Put Kristoph on the stand and Gavin will rear his pretty blond head. So will the others."_

"…_I see."_

"_What's the use wasting time hunting them down when we can lure them out? I think this game has gone on long enough. Let's get rid of Kristoph and put an end to the Gavinners."_

"_I agree. This has gone on for far too long."_

"_It's so amusing listening to that wintry tone when it's not aimed at me."_

"_Misham?"_

"_They'll move on him in five days."_

"_And the stamp?"_

"_It's still in his office."_

"_His daughter?"_

"_Still traumatised from our encounter."_

"_Poor girl."_

"_I almost fell for that, sis."_

"_She's lucky we only scared her. If it wasn't for Kristoph, I would have taken her for real."_

"_Ha. I don't doubt it."_

"_So…"_

"_Vera is still a scared child. Drew is well under our power. All that remains is for him to write the letter and kiss that stamp."_

"_Very well. Let's donate some paint for that yellow brick road."_

"_I like the smile in your voice, baby sister. It bodes well for us."_

"_I'll be in touch."_

"_Where are you now?"_

"_Paying a visit to Uncle David."_

.'.

**2****nd**** October 2026**

They moved again. There had been no real reason except after a phone call from Raoul, Klavier had quietly retreated to their bedroom and began to pack. Ema had come very close to asking what the problem was but then, as if something inside her deflated, she'd closed her lips and began to help him. An hour later, they'd been checking out, the hotel manager asking them if something was wrong. Two hours later, they had been in a rented car, an offer from Markus on their mind and the key to his home in hand.

Ema had slept most of the way through — her nights had grown increasingly restless and though she spent them curled up in Klavier's arms, she was still disturbed. She lay awake at night, staring up at the ceiling, wondering where her friends were, if her sister was safe and if she'd be a dead woman walking the moment she landed in LAX. In the first couple of nights she'd tried calling Deston but his phone constantly redirected her calls to voicemail. Finally, when her apprehension had hit its worst, she'd asked Klavier why he wasn't answering only to be told Deston and Raoul had also left the country to meet with contacts abroad. Where they were, he didn't know – but he reassured her they were safe. He told her not to worry.

Of course, that didn't work.

Ema was thankful that Klavier hadn't noticed. He woke up every morning and asked her how she'd slept and she always responded with a smile and nod of the head; she knew she should be honest but in the end, she saw the truth doing nothing but damage. If she admitted the truth about her insomnia, Klavier would want to know and regardless of how laid-back he behaved, she knew he suffered as much as she did — if not more.

Their morning had started off the same way. He'd stirred beside her and she'd kept her back to him, slowly closing her eyes to feign sleep because within moments she known he would lean over and check on her — and he had. His fingers had slowly slid over her arm till they laced with hers, their entwined hands resting on her stomach. She had hesitated, torn between pretending she was asleep and her overwhelming need to return his touch. Eventually, her desire had won out and she'd turned to look at him.

There had been no words; they had simply stared at one another. It had become something of a ritual and though Klavier had done nothing to advance their physical intimacy since that one night, Ema felt this brief moment to be every bit as profound. Every morning she rested her head on the pillow opposite his and bared her soul and every single time, he watched her, his soulful eyes flickering back and forth between hers as if he was soaking up every last ounce of her offering.

It had been almost two weeks since she had left the hotel with him. For two weeks, every morning, Klavier spoke to her this way and Ema could do nothing except ask for more. She had heard of a lover's embrace offering the greatest comfort, the best shelter but she didn't even have to touch him to feel safe. She only had to look at him.

And even when Klavier smiled at her, breaking the silence with a question or a statement, the moment wasn't really broken. His voice was just as comforting, his words just the barrier she needed to ignore everything trying to push its way to the forefront of her mind.

"Ema?"

His voice broke into her thoughts now and she looked up, focusing on him. For a minute, all she saw was his face, his hair whipping around him in the wind as they walked — then, she became aware of the way his fingers were squeezing hers. "Yeah?"

With the other hand, he held out his phone to her with a warm smile. "It's Lana."

It took her a moment to register what he was saying; the coming storm blew heavily around them and it roared in her ears. She stared at him, blinking, and when he nudged her arm slightly, she accepted his phone.

"Lana?"

"Why isn't your phone on?" Lana demanded.

Ema glanced at Klavier, letting go of his hand so she could block out the overwhelming noise in her other ear. "I think my battery is empty."

"The point of a cell phone is to have it on you so others can reach you when they need you, Ema," her sister chastised.

"Sorry, sis," she said with a small smile — hearing Lana's voice felt good. "I'll make sure it's charged for the rest of the trip."

"How are you?"

Ema wavered in answering, partly because Klavier had slipped his arm around her waist and was now spinning her around gently, redirecting her towards the house. She ignored him, allowing him to guide her as she debated on how to answer her sister. Lana, however, seemed to recognise the nature of her hesitation.

"I want the truth, Ema."

"I'm doing okay. We moved somewhere called the Pike District—"

"Peak District," Klavier chipped in casually.

"Peak District," Ema corrected herself with a roll of the eyes.

"I went there with some friends," Lana said. "It's a beautiful place. Do you like it?"

"Sure," she answered vaguely. The truth was she'd barely paid attention to her surroundings despite the fact that Klavier took her out once a day at least. "How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"What are you up to?"

"Ema, stop trying to change the subject."

"I'm not," she said with a frown. "I genuinely want to know how you're doing, sis!"

"I'm all right. Getting ready for a lunch date."

Ema grinned, an almost childish look appearing on her face. "Mr Edgeworth taking you out?"

"Diego's in town," Lana answered, not acknowledging the teasing tone of Ema's voice. "I'm meeting him for lunch.*

"Diego's in LA?" she asked in surprise.

"Yes. Why?"

"He usually stays in Kurain doesn't he? With Mia's sister?"

"He comes back from time to time."

"How come he's— whoa!"

Klavier's grip on her waist tightened and he grabbed her arm with his free hand just as she stepped into a rabbit hole, her balance thrown off; Ema's hands fumbled, trying to grab the phone that had slipped from her grasp. The effect of her efforts was she almost fell over again, prevented only by Klavier's hands and the phone bounced off her clawing fingers, landing several feet away and, quite literally, falling into pieces. Ema stared at it for a moment, her shoulders slumping.

Beside her, Klavier was laughing.

"Shut up," Ema grumbled, marching off ignoring the phone — it was temporary and she knew Klavier would just shrug off her apologies. She had a more pressing matter on her mind as she hurried towards the house. "Lana's going to be frantic. She's probably already booking a ticket over thinking someone slit my throat."

"Ja," Klavier laughed, running to catch up with her and slipping an arm around her again. "Of that, there is no doubt. However..." He tugged on her waist, moving her away from the path she had taken. "The house is this way."

"Is the phone broken?"

He shrugged and shot her a smile. "It is too dark to check and certainly not worth picking up the pieces for. I will procure a new one tomorrow."

"Sorry."

Klavier's grin melted into a warm smile as he looked down at her, dropping a kiss on her temple. "Accidents happen."

Ema said nothing and was grateful when Klavier's hand slipped into hers and his speed picked up, silently but swiftly leading her home. They reached the house a few minutes later and sure enough, Ema dashed to the nearest phone, entering her sister's number and clutching it anxiously to her ear. The first bell had barely finished ringing when Lana answered.

"Sis, it's—"

"Ema! What the hell happened?"

Behind her, Klavier closed the door and set the keys on the table. "I'm sorry! I tripped and the phone fell and broke!"

"You're ok?"

"I'm fine!" Ema chirped, relieved that Lana wasn't on a plane to England already. "Sorry I scared you."

"Don't apologise, sweetheart," Lana said. "Just take care of yourself, ok?"

"I will."

"I'm running late so I need to go but is Klavier around?"

Ema glanced over her shoulder and found him standing beside her, his warm eyes on her. "Yeah, he's right here."

"Put him on the phone."

"Okay... Love you, sis."

"You too Em. Remember to take care of yourself. Relax. Enjoy yourself. Everything will be fine."

She nodded into the phone, her throat suddenly tighter at the soothing quality of Lana's tone. Ema wanted to reply but all she could think of was how much she wished her sister was here so she could hug her. With a swallow, she turned to Klavier who gently took the extended phone from her and raised it to his ear.

"Ja, Lana."

_Water_, she thought to herself, stepping away. _I need water_.

No.

_I need to calm down._

She'd barely taken a step toward the kitchen when Klavier's fingers wound around her wrist. When she looked at him, he was still on the phone, apparently nodding along to whatever Lana was saying. His eyes, however, were fixed on hers and he suddenly drew her into a one-armed hug and Ema, already made vulnerable by her sister's voice, simply accepted his proximity, drawing strength from him. She rested against him as he carried on his monosyllabic conversation and after a few moments of incomprehensible responses, he hung up, finally winding his other arm around her and squeezing.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah…"

He pulled back to look into her face, his fingers brushing the hair away. "Then why the sadness in your eyes?"

Where she would have hesitated once, now Ema barely thought about what she was doing; her shrug was casual and her voice steady when she answered. "Lana's always been like a parent to me. She gives me comfort but now…"

"You want to tell her the truth but do not want to worry her," Klavier guessed.

"Yeah," she said, running a hand through her hair. "She's always been protective and I know if I tell her what's going on, she'll worry herself sick."

"She is already worried," he pointed out gently, rubbing her back.

"I know but she's finally happy…" She sighed. She hesitated, looking around and then headed for the stairs. "I don't want her to get in the middle of something else and jeopardise herself just to protect me."

"I understand that," Klavier said, following her.

Ema stopped mid-climb and turned, her green eyes searching his face. "But?"

He looked at her, his handsome face blank as he shook his head. "No buts."

"I've spent the past week in your constant company and the past year working for you." She crossed her arms, fixing him with a stern expression. "That prosecutor's face might work on others, fop-face, but I can tell there's something churning in that head of yours."

"May we have this conversation somewhere less hazardous?" he asked with a smile she knew was meant to ease the tension. "I am at an unfortunate angle should you choose to kick me in the head."

"Or somewhere a little lower," she added, glancing down suggestively.

Klavier winced. "_Bitte_, Fräulein," he said with a weak chuckle. "Have mercy, ja?"

She couldn't help but be amused by his animated reaction and rolled her eyes, turning to ascend again. She turned at the vast landing, sweeping into the room that had been housing them. For an inexplicable moment, Ema turned and looked at Klavier to make sure he was still following and found herself reliving the first day they'd walked in: she'd felt extremely awkward, willingly following Klavier into a bedroom when there were four others in the house that lay vacant. For a moment she had been unsure whether she should follow him, given that he didn't want to _do _anything, but before her doubts could increase, he'd taken her luggage and set it aside, drawing her into a gentle embrace.

Now, as she watched him follow her and Ema turned her attention back to the mixture of 'his and hers' clothes that littered the ground, it all seemed so natural. The room looked like they had inhabited it forever and despite the fact that that they had yet to _do _anything, Ema felt like they'd been sleeping together since… Well. She couldn't really remember sleeping alone anymore. It was an odd feeling, letting a few days eclipse a routine that had existed for years but Ema supposed, in light of all the threats that hovered over them, that she'd learned to prioritise.

"Do you not want something to eat, Ema?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder as she started to rummage through her things trying to find her phone and the charger. "I'm not really hungry."

"What are you looking for?" he asked, coming to stand next to her.

"Lana told me off for not having my phone on. I thought I'd charge it…" She lifted her pillow and, upon finding her phone, turned to start looking for the charger only to find it dangling from Klavier's fingers. Ignoring the amused smile on his face, she threw the phone on the bed between them. "Hook it up for me, please…"

Klavier acceded without a word, swiping the phone off the bed just before Ema slumped into it, rubbing her head. She closed her eyes, hearing him move around and then the beep of the phone as it began to charge. A moment later, her yawn turned into a yelp when the bed suddenly bounced as his weight landed into the space beside her; she looked at him with a scowl but he was already grinning as if he'd known the action would irritate her.

"Fop."

He chuckled and leaned over, his mouth softly grazing hers. "I love you."

"Mmm," she hummed with a smile. "I know."

"No 'I love you too'?"

"Whatever, glimmer," Ema said, swatting him away. "I said it once. That's more than most get in a lifetime!"

"Is that right…" Klavier laughed, letting her push him away. "Does that mean I will have to earn a verbal acknowledgement of your love for me?"

"That would imply you have any chance of success," she answered with smirk, starting to rise off the bed.

"Then perhaps I will have to settle for _this_!" he laughed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back; she let out a "hey!" of surprise but Klavier had already spun them both so she was pinned under him.

Ema scowled up into his grinning face. "You fop."

"There's that magic word," he murmured, kissing her cheek.

She raised an eyebrow. "Magic word?"

"The magic word…" He smiled. "The one that told me you were different."

"As opposed to all your bimbo fans who fawn all over you?" Ema rolled her eyes.

Klavier laughed. "A little unfair, is it not? I doubt every Gavinner fan is a bimbo."

"I beg to differ."

"You differ incorrectly."

"No, I don't."

"Indeed you do," he contradicted her with a grin. "After all, it is not only women who like our music and I am certain 'bimbo' is an adjective used to describe females only."

Ema paused, sighing in exasperation and pushing at his shoulders again. "I suddenly can't remember why I thought Raoul was worse than you. Get off me you fop of a prosecutor!"

Klavier didn't let her this time; his arms snaked around her waist and he lowered his mouth until it hovered over hers, his eyes locked on hers with obvious affection. "And why should I do that?"

His breath was warm and when he kissed her it was just the same as yesterday and the day before; gentle, soft and filled with understanding emotion. It was all so familiar yet no less exciting. Her arms wound around his neck instantly as she kissed him back, a hand rising to touch his cheek as if wanting to memorise the feel of him, and even when he pulled back and stared into her eyes, her fingers continued their dance over the contours of his face.

"I do not need to hear you say it," he murmured, a gentle smile on his lips. "I see it in your eyes and feel it here…" He touched her mouth with his again.

Ema felt her heart skip a beat, the way it always did when he said something that moved her unexpectedly; its warmth rushed through her and brought a smile to her face. "Good…" she muttered, her fingers sliding off his face and suddenly poking his shoulder. "Because I'm still not saying it."

Klavier let out a laugh and rolled off her, his body rising up and off the bed. "Very well. I will cease and desist for tonight." He glanced at her, picking up the handset off the bedside table. "I do, however, insist that you eat. Your sister gave me express orders to force-feed you should you deny my offer."

Ema sighed, sitting up. "Of course she did."

"Relax," he said, gesturing at the bed with the phone. "I will prepare some food for us both, ja?"

"Ja," she mimicked him, sitting up.

Klavier smiled at her imitation, not moving for a moment. He simply stared at her, as if he wanted to take in the sight of her and just when Ema was about to ask if everything was all right, he winked at her and left. She watched him go, her smile slipping into a frown and when she slumped back into the pillow, there was only one thought on her mind: how long could they carry on pretending nothing was wrong?

.'.

**5****th**** October 2026**

"Aded?"

Seren looked up at the sound of his name and stood up when Daryan stepped in through the doors, followed by the Warden. In one hand, he carried a small bag with all his belongings and the other met Seren's outstretched fist; both friends pulled each other into a hug, Seren tiredly clapping his friend on the back and Daryan looking relieved but bewildered.

"How the hell did you manage to get me out so early?" he asked, pulling back. "Klavier said the appeal wouldn't happen until next month."

"I had Edgeworth fast-track it."

Daryan frowned. "On what grounds?"

Seren clapped him on the back again, nodding at the warden as he began to lead the detective away. "First, how's it feel to be a free man again?"

Daryan looked around at his surroundings and shrugged. "Looks the same as it did from my window."

Seren chuckled. "Let me guess, you aren't really free because you're a mar— Yeah, I thought so." He laughed when Daryan held out his hand, brandishing his wedding band which was now resting on the appropriate finger. "For a man that claims to be feeling trapped by marriage, you got that thing back on your finger in record time."

Daryan smirked. "I have a wife to visit."

"A wife who doesn't know you're free. That's right," Seren grinned, seeing the surprise on his friend's face. "In fact, I'm the only one who knew you were getting released today. I thought Tess could use the surprise."

"Knew you were good for _something_."

"That's no way to be talking to your saviour."

"Saviour?" Daryan scoffed.

Seren chuckled, unlocking his car as they approached it. "I'll take you to see Tess," he said, gesturing for Daryan to get in, "but I need to talk to you first."

"Let me think," Daryan started sarcastically, slamming the door shut. He raked a hand through his cropped hair in mock-thought. "Go see my hot wife who I haven't kissed in weeks or listen to my gay buddy whine ab—"

"I need your help," Seren cut across him quietly, his voice almost lost beneath the roar of the engine as it came to life. Daryan's sarcasm melted away at the solemnity of his friend's expression and he looked at him, frowning again. "And we can't tell the others."

It wasn't often the Gavinners openly declared a need for secrecy among one another and the statement filled Daryan with disquiet. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

Seren drove in silence as if he was looking for the right words and then he looked over, his usually sombre eyes filled with extreme apprehension. "Something that could destroy us all."

.'.

**6****th**** October 2026**

Kade stood up when David entered the room; his form was rigid as he stared at his old friend, a relief swimming behind the tension in his gaze. For a moment he half-expected David to launch an attack on him seeing as this was the first time they'd been alone since David had learned the truth about Gale's plan and his part in it.

Instead, David sat. And stared at him.

"What?" Kade asked, his deep voice filling the room as he took his seat again. His eyes swept the other's face, trying to understand the expression he was attempting to mask.

"Irina came to see me."

Kade turned still. "So she knows."

"She knows everything," David said quietly.

"You're still alive," Kade pointed out. "Why?"

David dropped into silence again.

"What did she want?" Kade prodded again.

"She wants me to tell her where Ema Skye is."

Kade's countenance remained steady. "Or?"

"Or she targets Lana."

"...how does she know about the girl?" Kade asked, a heavy frown between his eyes. "We kept Lana hidden."

"Seems like Rafe was wearing a camera when he died."

A pause. "Sounds like something the bastard would do." Another pause. "That's a bullshit ultimatum."

David frowned. "What?"

"I know for a fact Leo and Irina are targeting some painter the Gavins are connected with to bring all of them out of hiding."

"How do you know that?"

"I have a source. So either Irina is up to something else or you're not being entirely honest."

Finally David's mask fell and a deep uneasiness slipped into his features. "I'm not lying. That is the ultimatum she gave me and even though I don't know about this plan of theirs—" he gestured at Kade, making reference to what he'd just told him "—there _is_ something else."

"Elaborate… please."

"I'm not sure this plan is just to bring Klavier and his friends out of hiding."

"Then what do you think?"

"Irina wants Kristoph Gavin dead."

.'.

**6****th**** October 2026**

Kristoph read and re-read the letter in his hand while the fingers of his other hand rolled the rose from the vase between his fingers. His inscrutable face gave nothing away of his emotions and everything about him was steady. He lounged in his armchair as if it was his home, one leg crossed over the other and his eyes roaming the elegantly written words on the paper.

_It's time to collect, big brother. _

The message had unsettled him for the briefest moment the first time he'd read it but now it had no effect. He had always known he would have an unconventional end and he could think of no better way to die than this. He wanted vengeance after all. True, there was no guarantee this would ensure justice for what had happened to him but sitting in this cell, he knew this was the closest he'd ever get to it.

He thought of Klavier — the brother who knew nothing of how dark and filled with secrets their family had been. Would he ever know? If Kristoph died, there was only one other person who could tell Klavier the truth and he had little hope in that possibility. A part of Kristoph wanted him to know so that Klavier would extol him of his sins, so that he could understand Kristoph's drive for retribution… but there was the other side of him, the one he'd tried to quash beneath years of anger and understanding that if he wanted to succeed in his endeavours, he couldn't allow himself to be hindered by protective emotion. _That_ side of him wanted to shield his sibling from the truth.

Kristoph looked down at the note and smiled serenely even as his insides flared with ire. Why was he even mulling over these things?

_After all_, he thought to himself, drops of crimson beginning to appear on his skin as he crushed the rose in his hand; _the devil's coming to collect_.

.'.

**6****th**** October 2026**

Ema awoke to the sound of Klavier's voice. When she turned to look at him, he was murmuring something into the phone held between his cheek and shoulder as he made wild, crossing motions with a pen across the folder in his lap. She couldn't understand a word of the German falling from his lips so she stayed still, choosing to watch his expression as a guide to the conversation; when his expression darkened momentarily, she frowned and sat up. His blue eyes turned to her sharply but they instantly softened upon landing on her face and he mouthed a 'sorry' to her before turning back to the phone. He muttered a few more perplexing words and then hung up, putting the phone aside and exhaling deeply as if he was releasing all of his tension. When he faced her again, the tired lines of his handsome face had dissolved.

"What's wrong?" she asked straightaway. "Is everyone okay?"

"Everyone is fine," Klavier reassured her. " I am sorry for waking you. I should have left the room."

"Why were you mad?"

"It is nothing," he said although she could tell it was as far from nothing as anything could be: his expression tightened again for a moment.

"Klavier," she said sternly. "Answer me please."

A deep sigh escaped him that did nothing for her mood. "Very well," he said. "I suppose there is no use hiding these things from you. Someone broke into my office."

Ema was about to roll her eyes and scold him for worrying her over a simple burglary but then she focused on the look in his eyes and understood at once. "You think it has something to do with the Rainsfords."

"It seems like it," he said. "Daryan says Leonardo Rainsford appeared at the crime scene a few hours after it happened. He made cryptic remarks – nothing that could implicate him but enough for us to understand he is responsible for it."

"That was Daryan on the phone?" Klavier nodded and she paused, pursing her lips. "I'm surprised he didn't kill Leonardo."

"He just got out from prison," Klavier said with a small chuckle. "I suppose he will be on his best behaviour for a very long time."

She looked at her boyfriend as he stretched out on the bed next to her, throwing the folder down onto the floor; she knew he was forcing a smile on his face for her sake but the truth was that, despite how much more appealing it was to pretend, the more either of them tried to ignore what was going on, the more the tension increased.

"Well, I'm sure you can deal with a little break-in after having your condo blown apart," she quipped, mirroring him.

Klavier looked at her, clearly taken aback by her flippant tone. "What?"

"What?" she echoed with a shrug. "It's true. A small break-in hardly compares to all the other things going on, right? Especially since we're expecting them to do something."

Another, more sheepish chuckle escaped him. "I suppose you have a point."

Ema didn't say anything for a while, choosing instead to edge closer to him. He sighed and curled an arm under her neck, pillowing her head against his shoulder and dropping a kiss to her forehead. She knew that he wanted to tell her everything would be all right, that she was safe and nothing would happen to her — she could see his desire for it to be true. But they both also knew that there was no guarantee that he was right and Klavier was no liar. He dealt in truths, not what-ifs.

"How's Tess doing?" Ema asked, changing the subject to distract herself as much as him.

"Happy," Klavier said with a genuine smile. "She is healing fast and the doctors are very pleased with her progress. I believe Daryan's presence is only speeding up the process."

"Is it weird seeing him like that?" she asked curiously.

"Like?"

"All in love and… knowing he's married." She shrugged. "I don't know him that well but from what I saw he wasn't exactly the romantic type."

"That is just what he wants everyone to think," Klavier laughed. "Daryan is a very private person."

"That's what Deston said."

"Daryan likes to keep things to himself. It is simultaneously his greatest flaw and his greatest asset. He is a good confidant but also deeply secretive."

"Whereas your greatest flaw and asset is your foppishness."

"We discussed this just the other week, Fräulein," he said with amusement. "I believe I said my greatest flaw was my intolerance to lies, regardless of the reason for which they were told."

Ema rolled her eyes. "Thanks," she said dryly. "You just ruined my joke."

He dropped a kiss on her mouth. "I live to serve, _mein liebe_."

"So does this mean all the Gavinners have flaws like everyone else?"

"Oh ja!" he laughed. "In fact, I would go so far as to say we are more flawed than the average individual."

Ema frowned, thinking of the other three. "Ray, I totally get. It's a tie between that out-of-orbit ego and profane mouth—" Klavier laughed again, this time a little harder "—but Seren and Des?"

Although he was still smiling, it was a little more subdued now as if he preferred not to answer the question. He confirmed her suspicion by changing the subject: "It is unimportant." He kissed her forehead again, pulling her closer. "Let us discuss plans for the morning."

Immediately, she was distracted. Ever since they'd arrived in the UK, Klavier had dragged her from one site to another, even managing to take her shopping and buying anything she glanced after simply asking her to blow his money had failed. The young detective was slightly sick of being pulled in all directions and another 'planned' day sounded unspeakably dreadful.

"Here are my plans," she started in a wry voice. "I'm going to sleep, eat, watch TV and sleep some more. How about you?"

"Hmm. I found a quaint little boutique I would like to introduce to my—"

"NO!"

Klavier's eyebrows rose when Ema shot up, turning to look at him indignantly. "No?"

"I am NOT going out tomorrow, fop!" she protested.

He chuckled, drawing her back into his arms. "That is acceptable to me, Ema," he told her gently.

"I can't take another workout session from hell," she said, sulkily allowing him to embrace her again.

"Then what about one from heaven?" he teased, giving her a suggestive look. Ema threw him a glance that she promptly averted when she saw the meaning behind his twinkling eyes.

"Fop off!" she told him moodily. "You know what I meant. Shopping is more vigorous than any exercise in the world! I think I lost 10 pounds just staring mindlessly at stuff I do _not_ want."

"Well, _that_ is not true."

"Are you insane?" she asked, staring at him in disbelief. "You think I want a jacket that's worth more than—"

"No, I believe that just fine. I was referring to the other statement."

"What other statement?" Ema blinked at him, puzzled.

"Shopping being more vigorous than anything else?" His eyes danced with mischief. "I can think of one other exercise that involves two indivi—"

"KLAVIER GA—"

Her outraged yell was almost instantly muffled by a laughing kiss as Klavier rolled them both over, his tall frame pinning her to the bed, his lips moulding around hers. There was a moment in which he became very aware of where her legs were (and his own vulnerability) but she didn't take advantage of the position. Her offended cry melted into a soft sigh as her arms wound around his neck.

"You're such a fop," she murmured again.

"But you chose me," he reminded her with another kiss to her cheek. "And you knew the full extent of my foppery."

"That's true." She pretended to think about that and made a face as if she wasn't happy with the conclusion of her thoughts. "What does that make me?"

"A very special woman?" he said, his smile soft. His hands snuck to her waist. "A woman who's made my life worth living and all of its miseries endurable."

Her humour went up in smoke as she looked back at him, hearing the heaviness in his voice and seeing the sadness in his eyes. She wanted to take away his burdens… to which she knew she was adding. Though he pretended it wasn't happening, Ema knew the fear ate at him; whenever she talked of their flight home, she saw a shadow flicker across his face, felt his hold on her (an incessant presence) tighten protectively.

They both knew there was nothing but danger waiting for them at home — one with no visible end in sight — and it could go on for years. There was no way Ema could hide that long from a crime ring of such size and power.

"I think you're giving me too much credit," she said, shaking off her dark musings.

"Ema," he whispered, brushing her hair back; he was smiling as if he found her response naively endearing. "You do not understand what I am saying."

"I don't?"

"I would be happy to spend my entire life by your side," he told her, his mouth brushing over her temple. "Now that I love you, there can be no other."

"Such a fop," she said but this time there was no scowl on her face. She looked up at him tenderly, her fingers touching his face gingerly.

"My heart belongs to you," he murmured.

"It's comments like that that multiply the output of foppish insults," she joked.

Klavier, however, wasn't giving in to her attempts to ease the mood. "Does yours belong to me?"

She paused again, letting her logical mind work through an appropriate response. "I'd like to think we belong _with_ one another not _to_ each other."

He seemed intrigued by her answer. "The difference?"

"It sounds less possessive that way," she said with a shrug. "I've never been in love before so I may be wrong but I don't think love is about owning someone. I think it's more about finding someone you feel like you belong and can grow with."

"An interesting but rather distinctive analysis," he said, impressed. "Do you feel like you belong with me?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

He carried on staring at her thoughtfully. "And you think you can grow with me?"

"I already am," she said calmly.

Klavier smiled widely, the tenderness interweaving with happiness. "Good."

And suddenly, Ema understood how it felt to drown in someone's gaze. Emotion swelled to the familiar point where she'd have to look away or be lost. A second before she gave in and turned, he bent and kissed her, gently, then lingeringly, then harder, then with a possessive passion that left her in no doubt of his intent. There was one way he could possess her, one way she could claim him without either of them losing a single thing — and she knew he was asking her, with this one kiss, if she would give herself to him.

Ema's logical mind thought of the many reason why she should wait — they hadn't been together long enough. How did they know this was what they wanted? That it wasn't done out of fear for their borrowed time? Did they understand what they were doing?

And yet, despite the arguments her brilliant, scientifically-driven mind was screaming at her, Ema's fingers slipped down his arms and wound around his waist. This was Klavier. He was good. He was a good man, with a good heart. He loved her and she loved him. Maybe there _were _a thousand reasons Ema should have said no, why she shouldn't have given in to desire, but there were almost as many why she should surrender to her emotions. Like when his skin touched hers, something flared inside her; her heart stopped for a moment and then, when his hand cupped her flushed cheek, it began to race.

All of her doubts forgotten, Ema met his questioning kiss with an invite of her own...

And Klavier accepted.

.'.

**7****th**** October 2026**

Three men watched from across the road as a bunch of paramedics loaded a body into their van. There were police cars and officers everywhere but they were undeterred. They were unafraid. Their forgetful faces were blank except for when Vera Misham was led out of the house like a scared child. Amused smiles played on their cruel mouths, having recognised her from all those years ago when she was kidnapped and held.

There was no fear in their stance when the police officers glanced at them fleetingly or approached them to ask questions. Though there were a fair few who were undoubtedly unsettled by the men's out-of-place smiles, there were no accusations that could be thrown their way. She had killed her father. The proof was all there.

One of them looked at his phone, an eyebrow arching, and then he answered it. He listened quietly to the commands on the other end and nodded as if his mystery caller could see him. Then, hanging up, he turned back to his cohorts and, in a cold voice, said, "We're done."

"Can I kill him?"

They followed the gaze of the one who had spoken and three sets of murderous eyes landed on the erratic journalist who was bouncing about as if he didn't quite comprehend the seriousness of the situation.

The cold voice interrupted the silence. "No. He's got information on Enigmar and Gavin that'll be needed in the trial."

"Piece of shit. Looking at him makes me sick."

"Kill him after he's served his purpose," said the third one, his tone flippant. "We gotta get going if we're gonna stay on schedule. Screw up and Irina will kill us."

"Yeah, you're right. What she did to Sloan..."

"Sloan chose to follow Rafael."

"If he'd chosen to follow Irina, he would have been fucked too."

"Dude had no chance."

"I don't know," the cold one said, his eyes fixed on the house they had left a few hours ago. "If I was given a choice between father and daughter, I would have always chosen her."

"Ya what?"

He gestured at the house as if to explain himself. "Look at what she orchestrated. The woman isn't human. She's an angel of death."

A pause.

"I guess you're right."

"Let's get going. Don't want her wrapping those bloody wings around me."

They turned and walked, their forms large but well aligned to their surroundings. They were like ghosts, their movements slow and sure and bold, as if they knew nobody and nothing could touch them. For hours they had stood outside the Misham house, watching the events that Irina had arranged unfold, waiting for Vera to be arrested so they could move on to the next step and yet, as they left, nobody stopped them. Nobody questioned them. Nobody noticed them. And the spot they had occupied, keeping vigil over the house, showed no trace of their presence.

It was as if they had never existed.


	4. Dark Genesis

4 (5?) months without an update. Honestly, I won't make excuses. I'll just apologise for the delay and hope you'll all forgive me. I truly will endeavour never to let such an atrocious amount of time to pass before another.

So... I won't say much except I really hope 1) this chapter isn't a disappointment after all the time you waited, 2) I haven't lost my readers and 3) you'll forgive me if this is a let-down.

Reviews are always welcome, I appreciate all my readers and... the cliffhangers are back. I'm off to build a bomb-shelter.

Love y'all.

Oh and Lucifer's daughter's brother - I hate you!

* * *

><p><span>Dark Genesis<span>

.'.

Let the curtain fall on who I was,

Mesmerised, remain, by deadening black;

Smell the blood rain from applause—

And watch as I drown them in the final act.

'.'

"_Objection! Prosecutor Gavin! The defendant is answering all of your questions! Stop badgering her!"_

"…_He's told you nothing, has he?" Klavier asked, utter disbelief and shock bleeding from his voice, his body trembling with indignation and anger. "Your soiled, sullied mentor! Nothing?"_

"_Sullied…who?"_

"_Phoenix Wright," Klavier said with a smirk as if Apollo's confusion gave him newfound confidence in his argument. "Who else?"_

_Ema gripped Deston's hand while her other tightened around Phoenix as Klavier's aggression spilled into the revelation of Phoenix's past and the circumstances that led to his disbarring. His face, which had collapsed with desperate horror moments before was once again impassive but his eyes — they burned. The fire flickered back and forth between Vera and Apollo as if he was challenging them to voice the suspicion that visibly lurked behind his façade — it was a suspicion the young defense attorney didn't notice, a memory that flickered across Vera's face as she stared at Klavier and a truth that the Gavinners and Ema had come to accept._

_Klavier was going to learn the truth about Kristoph._

"_Ve….Vera!"_

_The sound of her choking followed by Apollo's shout echoed around the stunned silence of the room. Everyone was frozen, morbidly fascinated as she tumbled, the thud louder than one would have expected for a body so frail. Perhaps it was the unexpected volume that finally broke the silence; in an instant Deston was gone, leaping across and over the gallery until he was by Vera's side, leaning over her convulsing limbs._

_Ema's eyes widened when she saw the way the young girl's back arched, instantly recognising the symptoms. She clutched Phoenix's hand, watching speechlessly when Deston let out a shout, lifted Vera up in his arms — and ran._

.'.

Ema and Raoul couldn't find anyone. Deston had taken Vera to hospital and disappeared. Seren and Daryan had left the courthouse shortly after and no matter who they asked, nobody seemed to know where the two Gavinners had gone.

And Klavier…

The prosecutor was nowhere to be found — he had vanished amid the fray of chaos and panic. His cell was unresponsive, his hog gone and no matter where Ema and Raoul looked, they were met with a dead end. It was after 3 solid hours of searching that the Italian insisted Ema return to Deston's home and wait. He stayed with her but his usually smirking, devil-may-care demeanour was lost beneath the tension-tightened muscles and dark expression. He remained close but few words were exchanged. They sat in silence for a long time, his hand reaching out every so often to pat hers or ruffle her hair or simply to nudge her shoulder with his as if to remind her she wasn't alone. It was almost midnight when Deston finally surfaced and Ema saw the full extent of the trepidation Raoul had been hiding.

"Where the hell have you been?" he roared, rising and jumping over the sofa, heading for Deston as if gathering momentum for an attack.

"Trying to get access to Kristoph," Deston snapped back, ignoring the threatening stance the Italian had taken as he pushed past him.

Raoul slowed down. "Trying?"

"K's yanked that PRA-sanction trick out of his ass again."

"He's restricted access to Kristoph now?"

Deston wasn't paying attention — he stopped before a wide-eyed, quiet Ema, took her face in his hands and lifted it as if he wanted to examine her. Before she could question him, however, he turned away, snatched up her bag and tipped its contents out on the sofa. "Des?" she said cautiously, not knowing if ticking him off with insults and indignant remarks as was her instinct was the safest option.

"You think someone planted somethin' on her?" Raoul said, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched Deston sifting through her belongings before turning his attention to the bag while Ema stood right beside him, her fingers wound tightly together as she watched.

"I don't know," Deston said, swiftly but thoroughly examining her things. "But I don't like what happened in court today, for more reasons than one."

"A diversion?"

"Possible. I don't—" Deston froze suddenly, his movements ceasing which was instantly followed by the sound of Raoul cursing. Ema looked between them sharply, trying to understand what it was that had generated such a reaction and it was only when she followed Raoul's gaze to Deston's hand that she understood: he was holding a tracking device.

And it had fallen out of her bag.

"Son of a bitch," Raoul swore again. Without hesitation he raced out ahead of them, followed promptly by Deston who had a grip on Ema; he pulled her with him, barely paying attention to the wide open door he left behind. Disorientated, Ema's mind lagged to catch up with the conclusion they had already drawn and taken action to deal with: she was being tracked.

"Get in," Deston instructed, opening a car door for her and Ema slid in without further ado, barely registering the force with which he slammed it shut before getting into the passenger seat himself. He had barely closed his door when Raoul took off, speeding into the night.

"Mind telling me how you knew there was something on her?" Raoul asked.

"It's become clear the Mishams are inextricably linked to Kristoph who's connected to Rafael and/or his daughter," Deston answered, lifting his cell phone to his ear. "I don't know how it's all connected but if someone could poison Vera in the middle of a cross-examination…"

"Poison?" Raoul echoed, surprised.

"Yeah, she was poisoned. Atroquinine." Deston frowned, the phone still pressed to his ear. "Seren's not answering his phone…"

"We've been trying him all day. He ain't answering. Neither's Daryan."

Deston seemed to ignore him as he lowered his phone to dial again. Raoul glanced at Ema in the rear-view mirror. "You all right?"

She didn't know. The entire day seemed like a dream, as if she was seeing it all happen to someone else. She felt none of the apprehension even though she registered the conversation between her friends; she was emotionally numb, her mind in overdrive as it jumped from one thing to another. Who killed Drew Misham? How had someone poisoned Vera in the middle of a trial? Who had planted that chip in her bag? Where were Seren and Daryan?

_Where was Klavier? Why had he restricted access to Kristoph?_

"I'm fine," she lied, her calm manner at stark contrast with the mass of shrieking questions in her head. "Where are we going?"

"I have a house out by the—"

"Give me your cell," Deston demanded, looking at Raoul.

"What's wrong with yours?"

"I'm not getting a signal." Raoul shifted, keeping one hand on the wheel while with the other he yanked out his phone and handed it to Deston. The agent glanced at it and let out a growl. "What the hell is up with— Em, can I borrow yours?"

"The signal not working on mine either?" Raoul asked.

"I don't have it." She looked at Deston who was staring at her expectantly. "It was in my bag."

"Chill," Raoul said calmly when Deston cursed. "Let's just get to my place and you can use the phone there. Who you need'a call so urgently anyway?"

"I want to double the security on Vera," Deston said, slamming his head against the seat.

"We're almost there. I don't reckon anyone's gonna be too bothered about her right now."

"You sure about that?" the drummer asked, scepticism in his voice. "She's still alive. Whoever it is might want to finish the job they started."

"What exactly are we doing?" Ema asked, deciding she'd had enough of quietly listening to their conversation. "Are we just going to hide out somewhere else now?"

Deston glanced at her again, his expression softening at the irritation in her tone. "No, Em. We're going to figure it out. We just needed to get out of there."

"You left your door open," she reminded him.

He chuckled. "I probably saved myself some repair work. If I'd locked it, they'd have broken windows, doors — anything in order to get in."

"I'm sorry I've caused you so much trouble…"

Deston and Raoul both seemed to go still at those words and then the drummer unbuckled his seatbelt, jumping into the back of the car, and wrapped her in a gentle hug. He held her close, his touch gentle as if he was afraid he would break her. "Don't ever apologise for this, Ema," he whispered into her hair.

"This ain't your fault, girl," Raoul said firmly, glancing at her in the mirror again. "There's only one person who should be apologising for this trouble and believe you me, when I get my hands on her, an apology sure as hell ain't gonna be enough."

Ema smiled weakly and leaned against Deston, trying to draw comfort from his embrace but it was no use. Nothing could ease the nagging fear that had started up in the back of her mind. "Klavier's still missing."

"He's not missing, Em," Deston said gently. "He's in shock and I'm pretty sure he's starting to make the connection."

"You know where he is?"

He nodded. "He's digging up information on… that case."

"And he couldn't even let me know? Pick up his cell?"

"I don't think he's aware of anything except his need for answers, Ema," Deston sighed. "I don't think he _cares _about much else."

Great. So after everything they'd been through, he didn't care enough to let her be there for him? Or at least let her know he was _okay_? Ema pulled away from Deston and looked out of the window. She crossed her arms and her mouth mashed together in a tight line; Klavier wanted to do this on his own? _Fine!_ She didn't need him and he'd made it obvious he didn't need her. If, even after everything, he was going to keep her at a distance, that was all right by her.

"Would you slow down?" Deston suddenly barked at the back of Raoul's head. "There's no use heading to safety if you're going to kill us on the way."

"Get a grip," the Italian barked back. "We're almost there."

"Don't fight," Ema cut in. "I don't have the energy to listen to you both."

Either Deston hadn't planned on retaliating or they both decided to listen to her — whatever it was, silence fell in the car and for a moment nothing but the whir of the engine could be heard. Then, rapidly finding that the silence was more painful than their bickering, Ema broke it: "Deston—" he looked at her quizzically "—do you know where Daryan and Seren are?"

He shook his head in response. "I've no idea, babe. After I took Vera to hospital, I got caught up in organising an investigation at the courthouse. I haven't had a chance to check on anybody."

"Do you think they're okay?"

"They're fine, chick," Raoul reassured her right before he swerved the car to a halt. Ema cursed as she was swung by the abrupt stop, only managing to avoid hitting her head against the window when Deston grabbed her, pulling her into him while snapping at Raoul in Italian. The red-head muttered apologetically before stepping out of the car and opening the door for her. Ema, who was grumbling foppish curses at Raoul by now, stepped out and smacked him around the head.

"Yo!" he protested, ducking another swipe. "I said I was sorry. What more do you— hey!" Raoul snapped, his attention turning to Deston who'd snatched the keys from his hand and was already marching to the house. "Jackass."

Ema whacked his head again. "Don't call him that!"

Raoul smirked. "Or what?"

"I'll…" Her hand automatically went to where her satchel usually hung but when her fingers clawed at thin air and his smirk widened, she felt her heart sink.

"Looks like someone's missing ammo," he snickered.

"Far from!" she retorted. "I can still give you the sharp end of my tongue! I can give you the lash—"

His laughter boomed, cutting her off. "If you weren't Gavin's girl, I would make you regret saying that!"

"Excuse me?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"The 'end of your tongue'?" he repeated. "Skye, you've practically been _livin' _with me and you don't see the—"

"_SHUT UP!_" she shouted the moment his comments hit home but the volume of his laughter only increased. "YOU'RE A DIRTY-MINDED LITTLE—"

"I am!" he called over her ranting, still roaring with laughter. "So why the hell don't you know you should watch that _delightful _tongue around me? Maybe one day I'll—_oomph!_"

Ema pounced him, the weight of her body tackling his unsuspecting form to the ground — they both landed with a thump, the Italian grunting as his back met the unforgiving ground with a painful thud and for a moment it appeared her added weight had crushed a few valuables even he couldn't endure with a straight face; however, when she pulled back to check (because she wasn't heartless enough not to care), Raoul was grinning up at her as if nothing was wrong.

"Well, well," he drawled, his eyes gleaming with deep mischief. "Why didn't you just say? Don't worry, I'll let Gavin down easy…"

Ema growled, her fingers grabbing his nose suddenly and squeezing it. "When will you stop being such a fop?"

"When you quit being a cutie?" Raoul smirked, rubbing his nose and laughing when she scowled and rolled off him.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

"Incorrigible is the word you're looking for," he corrected, propping himself up on an elbow.

"That too."

Uncharacteristically, Raoul silenced, his attention fixed on her and when Ema looked at him, ready to see more devilry in his features, she found an unusual sombreness instead; he was staring at her, deep in thought and when he spoke next, his question surprised her:

"Do you trust us?"

Ema, too taken aback to even consider sarcasm, answered simply: "Of course I do."

"You know we ain't gonna let anythin' happen to you?"

"Even though it's not your job to protect me—" Ema smiled "—I do know that."

Raoul nodded, rising to his feet and holding a hand out to her. "Good."

"What's with the sudden sobriety?" she asked, letting him help her up.

The shrug he gave was nonchalant but she saw the look in his eyes right before his gaze dropped to the ground; the regret and sadness there belied the offhanded nature of his response: "Just making sure."

She had spent enough time with Raoul and had developed enough of a friendship with him that she was able to put a hand on his arm and call him out on the lie; "Really?" she said quietly.

He smirked but it was hollow this time. "What else?"

Was she bold enough to voice her suspicion? And, as she stared him in the eye, wondering this to herself, Ema was hit with a realisation that she had been sinfully blind to the tightly bottled emotions her friends had hidden from her. Raoul's cockiness was so smoothly overwhelming that it had effectively kept her from even considering the more vulnerable emotions he had probably kept to himself. Who did he turn to when his emotions began to asphyxiate him? Somehow, she couldn't see him consulting any of the boys, each of whom were deeply caught in their own troubles: Klavier with Kristoph and Ema, Deston with the task of bringing down the crime ring, Daryan with fearing for his wife's health and Seren with worrying about Mara. She suspected all of the boys kept a certain amount of their troubles to themselves but, now that she scrutinised the Italian, she felt that his arrogance was layered too thick for a man who cared so deeply for his friends.

_Yes_, she thought to herself. _I am bold enough to voice my suspicion._

"Raina?"

Her heart clenched at the way his carefully constructed mask cracked. Pain trickled into his features.

"That ain't gonna be you, Ema," he reassured her quietly.

"I know," she told him softly. "I told you — I trust you." When Raoul said nothing in response to that, she touched his arm again. "You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened to her. She made her choice. There was no way you could have prevented it."

He gave her another hollow smirk. "Well, _bellissima_, I think you need—"

Ema never got to learn what it was he thought she needed — she yelped and jumped back as Deston's racing form suddenly fell on the ground between them, his body spinning so that his head and torso disappeared under the car in one smooth move. She cast Raoul a shocked look but he was staring down at his friend.

"What now?"

There was a growl followed by the sound of something ripping and then Deston slid back out, a black box in the palm of his hand which Ema instantly recognised as a signal jammer.

"Our phones won't work because this son of a bitch was attached to your car!" Deston snapped, slamming it to the ground and, swearing loudly, Raoul's heavy boot crashed down on the device. The drummer jumped to his feet, yanking his phone but instead of lifting it to his ear, he frowned and shook it before looking at it again. Ema watched his face carefully, her brain trying to comprehend what the cell phone jammer indicated but then Deston looked towards the house, cursing violently under his breath. "There must be another one here," he snapped, sweeping the area sharply. "Which means they know about this place. It's not safe here."

Ema suppressed the urge to groan. "You want to go elsewhere?"

"Of course we're goi— _would you quit tramplin' on my car?_" Raoul snapped when Deston jumped over the hood to get to the other side.

"Get in," Deston ordered.

She reached for the handle. "How do you know—"

"_RAY—!"_

Her feet had barely left the ground as she jumped in shock before a body collided with her own and her senses were overloaded with a mixture of soft body and hard ground. The world around her seemed to roll and then—

"_DESTON__**, MOVE**_**!"**

Raoul's voice frightened her. It was the first time she'd heard any real fear in it but when she lifted her head to see what it was that had elicited such a response, the Italian engulfed her in a protective hug — and then an explosion shook the very ground beneath them, the sound of it almost deafening her. Before she could register shock at having survive a blast so intense, Raoul jumped to his feet, his grip like iron as he tugged on her hand and yanked her upright.

"_Come on!"_

Ema gasped when she saw Raoul's car lost amidst the crackle of flames and even as she searched for Deston's figure – desperate to spot him in the chaos – all she spotted were figures almost _dawdling _towards them. This time when Raoul pulled he didn't let go. His hand gripped her painfully as they raced into the house, Ema barely managing to keep up, and it was only when they had sped through the door and the Italian had slammed the door shut that she rounded on him, her expression wild.

"_Where's Deston?" _

Raoul stood at the window looking out, shadows flickering darkly in the playground of the amber glow that reflected in his features. He was still a moment, his face blank and then he pulled open a small box beside the door, hitting a series of numbers that seemed to trigger black shutters: inch by inch they rolled down over the windows, plunging them both in darkness. Ema stood still, frozen by the ominous silence outside.

"_WHERE IS DES—"_

A hand clamped over her mouth and Raoul's voice was in her ear as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. "Ema," he said in an urgent whisper. "Try to stay calm."

Maybe it was just the panic and horror warping her mind but his voice seemed to carry a fear of its own, tinged with anxiousness and that terrified her more than anything.

"We have to get secure," he told her, in a strained tone. "There's still something jamming a signal and we can't call anyone; there's no help coming."

And still, all Ema could think was, _why isn't he telling me Deston will be okay? Why isn't he telling me not to worry?_

"Ema," he said shaking her a little. "Snap out of it. I need you to focus."

"Where's Deston?"

A long pause followed this question. "I don't know."

"What do you mean, '_you don't know_'?" she snapped, rounding on him and even though the darkness blinded her, she glared anyway. "Where is Deston, Raoul?"

"Ema, he's a trained agent. He can handle himself. I need to keep you safe."

"_Why do I take priority? Why can't—_"

"Because they're here for you!" he snapped in return, seeming to lose his temper now. "He's not the target, _you _are!"

"So let them ta—"

"Don't even go there," Raoul snarled and without waiting for her to respond, he dragged her forward, refusing to acknowledge the way she tugged on his hand. His grip was so strong that it didn't take long for the tired, terrified and disorientated Ema to give up. He pulled her up a flight of stairs and once at the top, he wrenched her down to crouch, pressing her against the wall. "Stay here," he told her, his eyes glittering with deathly seriousness in the glow trickling in through the hallway windows. "_Don't move_. I'll be right back."

He waited for her to nod and then he shot off down the hall. Moments later, more blinders slid down on the windows around them, killing what little light was left. Ema waited, as he had instructed her to but her mind whirred miserably. When had she become the damsel in distress? She had passed every test she had needed to join the police force and received her detective's badge. She wasn't a coward — she felt fear but had long ago learned to deal with it, to mask it and yet, now when it mattered the most, she was helpless. When the hell had she become such a weakling? When had she become one of those women that stood back and let everyone else take care of her and her problems?

Klavier's apartment had been blown up because of her. What if he had been home that day?

Raoul had almost been shot because of her. The day at the warehouse... They had fought and almost died to protect her.

And here she was again, under attack with Raoul protecting her once more and Deston... Where was Deston?

_Was he dead?_

A pang of fear went through her. Was she responsible for his...?

_No. He can't be dead. It's Deston for crying out loud. He knows how to handle himself. _

Rafael had warned her about Irina. He'd told her she was a dead woman and Ema had arrogantly believed she could escape her fate. She's believed he was wrong, that with all of her friends and the might of the law on her side, she would survive. And now, here she was, surrounded once more, Deston missing, with Raoul who would—

_**CRASH! **_

Ema's body jerked with shock at the sound and her eyes widened as the door downstairs cracked suddenly. She stared down the stairs at it with horrified fascination as it began to splinter and smash under external force. She began to rise from her spot against the wall, her hand reaching for her satchel only to hopelessly grab at air and she remembered, with a sickening drop of the stomach, that she had left it behind. Was this it? Was this how her life was going to end? She had never really thought much about dying — not in great detail — regardless of how much danger she had been in but she could never have imagined her end would be so pathetic.

_Well, fuck this_, she thought, standing up a little more firmly. _If I die, I'm going to die on my feet. That's how Lana raised me._

_**CRASH!**_

The door splintered some more but this time, Ema simply tilted her head, trying to ignore the pangs of pain that raced through her at the thought of her only sibling. After all she had suffered to protect her, Lana would lose her sister anyway. Why had she joined the police force? After everything Lana had done to save her, why had she thrust herself in a hazardous occupation?

_Oh, that's right, _the snide voice inside her head spoke up. _You wanted to follow in your sister's footsteps while getting a chance to play with your little chemistry set. You thought you could ever be as useful and worthy as Lana._

"_Open uuuuup!_" a sing-song voice called from the other side.

Ema's head snapped up in shock at the female voice. _Was that Irina? _

"I heard Skyes had a bit more backbone than this!" the same voice called again. "Guess Irina was wrong about you."

There was no relief on the realisation the voice was someone else's — only anger. Her blood boiled at the words and her mouth curled harshly, one foot already in front of the other as she headed for the stairs. But just as she took the first step down, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Raoul hissed in her ear.

"I'm not letting you d—iiooomf!"

Her eyes popped when his hand slammed over her mouth once more, his voice at her ear. "_Madre de Dio,_" he whispered furiously, starting to pull her backwards. "I swear I ain't gonna hesitate to knock you out if that's what it takes to save you."

She believed him. He really would do it — and the fact he would go so far to protect her, was threatening to do it, only reminded her how useless she had become. The rage left her as suddenly as it had come and she slumped against him slightly.

_**CRASH!**_

"Follow me," he ordered, taking her hand. "_Don't_ answer anyone, no matter what."

Without waiting, Raoul tugged her down the stairs; she couldn't see his face in the dark but he seemed to be ignoring the way the door was giving way under the constant smashing. He sharply swerved around the banister as they reached the bottom and Ema blindly followed him, her other hand reached out to make sure she wasn't about to hit something, desperately trying to see in the dense darkness. Her other senses heightened, Ema tried to ignore the sounds that trickled through — the increasingly alarming splintering of the door, the sing-song voice still taunting from the other side and the array of laughter that seemed echo in amusement to it. She couldn't let the situation overwhelm her; she had to stay in control of her mind.

"I'm right here," Raoul murmured as they stopped and his fingers slipped out of hers. "Give me a second."

For a few minutes, she heard nothing more and wondered if he had left the vicinity but then light flooded the room and she recoiled, her eyes closing in protest at the onslaught. It took her several moments to adjust herself to the illuminated kitchen and then she saw Raoul squatting on the floor, a shotgun slung over his knees. He dug his fingers into the linoleum and peeled back a square with no effort, as if it had simply been fixed into place; he shone the flashlight over the floor, a rectangular metal casing the object of his attention.

_**CRASH!**_

Unperturbed by the sound, he reached behind him to a cabinet and that's when it happened — in the shadows cast by his flashlight, Ema saw one of them detach itself and lunge for Raoul. Before she could utter a word of warning, it had slammed the Italian against the far wall sending the shotgun clattering to the ground. The flashlight rolled, stroboscopically lighting up the kitchen and leaving her disjointedly fumbling for the weapon.

"Ema!" Raoul grunted, battling with his assailant. "Get the—"

"It's me, you moron! _Quit trying to break my neck!_" Deston hissed suddenly and Ema, shocked to hear his voice, snatched up the light from the floor instead and shone it on their struggling forms; sure enough Deston was pinning Raoul, his otherwise unharmed form covered in black soot.

"_Deston_!" she gasped, throwing herself at him. "You're okay!"

He lifted his weight off his friend, instantly wrapping an arm around her and rubbing her back though he kept his attention fixed on Raoul who articulated his relief in a far less affectionate manner. "_Figlio di puttana_," he cussed, getting back on his feet and glaring at Deston. "What the fuck was that for?"

"You were about to blow this," Deston said quietly, tapping the side of a cabinet Raoul had been reaching for — it was discreetly lined with multiple wires. Raoul's gaze narrowed as they followed the wires, his hand disappearing behind the marble as he traced them and then he cursed again. "Yeah, they have the safe room rigged."

"They'd blow her to hell?"

Deston made a disapproving face but shook his head. "No. They're not here for her."

A short silence followed this simple statement and Ema looked between the two friends, seeing the way they were staring at each other meaningfully, and the terrifying realisation clicked: _they'd rigged the house to kill Raoul_.

"Heh…" Ema turned sharply at the sound, scowling at Raoul's smirk. "That makes this a hell of a lot more fun."

"_What?_" she snapped.

He glanced at her. "Sorry, Skye, but having to protect you takes the fun out of the fight."

Ema's fists clenched for the smallest moment and she glared at Raoul but then noted his behaviour probably stemmed from relief that she was safe. It didn't make her feel any better though — just like him, she would have preferred to be the target of this attack.

"You got any gas lying around?" Deston asked casually slipping away from Ema and she watched, bewildered, as he opened up a cabinet beneath the sink and started fiddling with one of the pipes.

Raoul watched him a moment then snorted. "Enough."

"Good," Deston punctuated, suddenly yanking out a pipe and starting to pull some of the bolts off.

"Excuse me," she said calmly. "Do you two mind telling me what the hell you're talking about?"

"We're arming ourselves," Raoul said, rising to his feet.

Ema was overwhelmed with a feeling of déjà vu, her mind flying back a few weeks to the last time they'd been under attack. "You're arming yourself with a… pipe?" she said uncertainly.

Deston jumped to his feet, grinning as he bounced the bolts in his hands. "Not exactly," he grinned, nodding at Raoul who turned and disappeared through the doorway. Ema started to follow but the drummer grabbed her hand and pulled her close to him. "You're staying with me," he said, unscrewing the head of a spritzer bottle and shaking it dry. "The last time I left you alone, you almost got yourself killed."

"I did not," she argued.

"Trying to act stealthy?" he reminded her coolly, now emptying a bottle. "I almost cudgelled you?" Her expression turned sheepish. "Remember now?"

"All right, fine." She scowled. "Now would you mind—"

_**CRASH!**_

Ema jumped, glancing towards the doorway where the sound of smashing and splintered wood was loudest.

"Ignore it," Deston said calmly, now rummaging through the drawers.

"Ignore it?" she echoed. "They're going to break through within moments. What are—"

"Ema, for a detective you are endearingly quick to jump to conclusions," he sighed.

She scowled again. "Well excuse me for not being born with a genius IQ!" she snapped. "For your information, I wanted to work in a lab where I wouldn't have to think on the spot with a bunch of maniacs smashing down the door with—"

"Then let me break it down for you, babe," he said picking up the scattering of odd equipment he'd gathered and turning to her. "They're not really interested in getting in. Are you forgetting they blew up Ray's car? If they wanted, they could blow that door off its hinges." He took her arm and gently but firmly led her out to the foyer, heading straight for the stairs, gesturing at the large ornate doors as they passed. "_That_ is nothing but theatrics."

Ema stared at it, only looking at her friend as they began to ascend the stairs at a swift pace. "Theatrics?"

"Since I stick to you like glue — something they've no doubt figured out by now — they're probably hoping I'll try and get you out of here which gives them leave to blow this place to hell, preferably with Raoul still in it."

"So what you're saying is _I'm_ keeping Raoul alive?"

They reached the top in seconds and he paused a moment looking both to the left and right landing as if to ascertain which way to go and Ema followed his gaze. It was only when they spotted a flash of light to the left that Deston began to move again, steering her towards it. "Yes, Ema. Right now, you're keeping Raoul alive."

"But they want me dead too."

"_Irina_ wants you dead and I'm guessing she wants to do the honours herself," he said bluntly, pulling her towards a room at the far end of the hallway. "I suspect they didn't anticipate you being here and followed Raoul thinking he was alone. But since you _are _here, they don't know how to proceed anymore. They can't kill you, they can't hurt you and they can't kill Raoul without risking some harm to you. In essence, they're in a sticky situation hence—" he gestured over the balcony to the door "—the theatrics."

"And your plan is to…" He pulled her into a room where Raoul had pulled down the blinders, the flashlight idling in his lap the only source of light; Ema stared at the guns scattered on the ground around him. "…engage them in a gunfight?"

Deston moved to a cabinet behind them, rifling through its contents and pulling out duct tape and scissors. "We can't sit and wait for help to come to us, Ema."

"Why not?" she said anxiously.

"Because help could be coming for the other side too—" Deston threw down all the things he'd gathered, starting to fix them together "—and if Irina gets here, you will no longer be a protection for your buddy here. We'll lose our only leverage." Deston glanced at the red-head. "Did you get it?"

Raoul pushed a canister with his boot towards him and the drummer instantly snatched it up, taking up the bottles he'd taken from the kitchen and beginning to fill them with (what Ema now saw) was gas. Her eyes widened. "What the hell are you doing with gas?" she demanded. "We have guns! You don't need make-shift weapons this time!"

"They have a grenade launcher, Em," Deston told her calmly without stopping.

"And this is going to help, how?" she argued. "You're going to go fight _gunmen_ with _gas_? If one of those bullets even—"

"Relax," he interrupted, glancing over at her. "I know what I'm doing, Em."

"It's open ground, Deston!" she snapped. "There's no way for you to sneak up on them!"

"There's plenty of trees," he countered, still entirely focused on his task. "And that's all I need."

"Yeah because now is a good time for monkey-business," she said sarcastically.

"Hey," Raoul said from behind, grabbing her attention, and she looked at him with a heavy frown. "Here," he said, holding a gun out for her. Surprised, Ema reached for it only to frown again when he pulled it out of reach, his face stern. "Don't do anything stupid. Got it?"

She simply scowled, snatching the weapon out of his hand. "Explain to me why we're not just shooting at them from the windows?"

"You will."

"Where are you going?"

"That grenade launcher is our biggest threat," Deston said, fixing some tubing to his arm. "Unfortunately, he's also the most heavily armoured. I have to get close to him to disarm him."

"And how are you going to do that?" she demanded.

"That's my problem," Deston told her curtly, now strapping several small bottles to his arm with duct tape. "Stay inside as long as you both can. They won't all be open for target practice so you need to focus: we need to take them all out as quickly and efficiently as possible. We don't have the luxury of time."

Raoul eyed the contraption Deston had attached to his arm. "What do you want us to do?"

Deston looked at them somberly. The agent seemed to struggle with that question for a few moments as his calculating eyes flickered to and lingered on Ema before turning back to Raoul. "Both of you stay together. It's your best bet."

"You won't be able to get across without being heard."

Deston moved one of the shutters moving it slightly and peering out. "I can get across those trees in 2 minutes if I have gunfire to cover the sound of my movements…"

Raoul cocked the shotgun. "We'll be raining bullets."

"Try to take out as many people as you can from in here…" he instructed. "Out there, things are going to get rough. If they break in before I've gotten across, get the hell out. Don't let them corner you."

Raoul nodded. "Ain't gotta worry about us, Cavatin. Take out that rocket-happy bastard."

Deston flashed him a confident smile. "I'll need your lighter for that."

When Raoul handed it over, Ema felt another wave of déjà vu hit her and she tried to comfort herself with the fact that the last time they'd been in a situation like this, all of them had escaped unscathed. They would this time too. So, watching Deston messing with the lighter, she said nothing. It was Deston: Klavier had told her he was the most formidable adversary anyone could go up against. She needed to stop worrying…

Nevertheless, when Deston picked up two guns, stuffed them in his waistband and threw her a smile, her heart started to race. "Be careful," she said softly.

"I've had worse odds, Ema," he told her reassuringly dropping a kiss on her forehead. "Just give me 2 minutes to get across and we'll wipe them out, no problem."

"I got your back," Raoul said, directing a grave look at Deston who nodded to his friend, shot Ema one last smile, and disappeared through the doorway. She stared after him for several long seconds until Raoul shut the door and turned the lock. "You ready?"

Her throat tight with terror, Ema could only nod. They both stared at one another, locked in their mutual tension for their friend's safety, and then Raoul turned off the light, plunging them both in darkness. She waited for the shutter to go up but, unexpectedly, his hand reached out and gripped her shoulder instead.

"We're all gonna be fine. We just gotta work together," he told her, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and comforting. "Just stay focused on your job and trust in his ability."

Ema nodded and then remembered he couldn't see her in the dark. "Fine."

"If Deston's makin' it across those trees in 2 minutes, he's gonna be running which means a lotta noise," Raoul reasoned. "When I pull up this shutter, our job is to keep things noisy enough and keep them all distracted. You with me?"

"Yeah."

He paused and when he spoke again, she heard a trace of amusement in his voice. "Y'know, I'm sorta flattered."

"…what?"

"That Lucifer's daughter would go to such trouble to finish me."

Ema couldn't help the faint smile that touched her lips at the description. "Why does everything have to be about you and how great you are?"

"Because I'm _that _great."

"You're an ass."

"A great one too." The flashlight came on and she looked at him, scoffing when she followed the aim to his backside which he was shamelessly shaking at her.

"Stop that!" she laughed, swatting at him.

He smirked. "You know, if Gavin hadn't hogged you first, I wou—"

"I _don't _want to hear the end of that sentence."

"A million girls would die to hear the end of that sentence."

Ema rolled her eyes. "That's because they're airhead bimbos."

"They were intelligent enough to recognise a suave motherfucker with a great voice."

"…Are we seriously having this conversation with your house under siege?"

"What's wrong with a confidence boost right before a battle?" he asked but she could hear the smirk in his voice and she knew he knew exactly what was wrong with it. "If you ask me, it's the perfect time for it."

"Is this how you behaved with Raina?"

"Eh," Raoul drawled, shifting a little. "Shark-boy was the thorn in her side."

"What do you mean?"

"They were like Deston and you."

"Really?" Ema tilted her head curiously. "That's weird."

"Not really," Raoul smirked. "Raina and Daryan had one very prominent thing in common."

"What?"

"Nymphos, both of 'em."

Ema made a face. "Is that a fact or are you just—"

"Not literally," Raoul laughed. "Just that Raina was Venus incarnate. She oozed sex. They were always going back and forth with the dirt."

"…and it didn't bother Deston that his girlfriend and his best friend were doing that?"

"Why should it?" Raoul leaned back. "They were just joking."

"Most men would be insecure if their hot girlfriend was making sex jokes with their friend."

"We share a mutual trust," he said flippantly. "That's why we jive. We ain't gonna screw each other over."

The words were out of her mouth before her mind had a chance to process and evaluate the incendiary stupidity of the comment. "Daryan screwed Klavier over."

Raoul paused and looked at her, his jaw suddenly hard. "Did he?"

Ema flinched under his gaze, having realised what she'd just said but for some reason her tongue — her stupid, rebellious tongue — wouldn't stop. "Well… he used Klavier's guitar to smuggle the cocoon…"

"Daryan knew Klavier's belongings wouldn't be searched," Raoul said sharply, his voice harsh for the first time since she'd known him and Ema recoiled. "He wasn't getting K into trouble."

"Right…" was all she said this time, fiddling with the material of her pants.

A painful silence stretched between them and then he sighed. "I ain't tryin'a be an ass," he told her calmly. "All I'm sayin' is the world's quick to judge Daryan and I get it. They don't know him beyond the rock-star façade but you know _us. _He did some unjustifiable shit but he's still a brother. Maybe you should consider that before you label him."

"You're right…" she sighed too, rubbing her neck sheepishly. "I suppose I am too harsh on him. Probably because of my own history…"

Raoul quirked an eyebrow. "What's that?"

Ema hesitated, glancing at Raoul then glancing away. So Deston hadn't told Raoul about Gant… Not that it surprised her. Deston respected people's privacy… It was probably why he hadn't pushed her to talk about it. "You've never heard of Lana Skye?"

"Your sister? No, I've heard of her."

"Oh. Then you know about…?"

"Her case?" he said bluntly. "Yeah."

Ema stared at the ground. "Then you know about Gant."

"Yeah."

"Well… The way Daryan let a child take the fall for his crime…"

She expected another snappish reprimand but Raoul was surprisingly quiet and when she looked up, she saw realisation dawn in his eyes. "Right… It rings too many bells for you."

"Yeah. I guess that's why I'm unfair to Daryan."

"I gotcha," he said quietly, watching her — and that was it. He said nothing else after that even though Ema stared at him. His only response was to meet her gaze, hold it then glance up at the ceiling. "He's ready."

Ema looked up too, listening for a sound. "How do you know?"

"I know." He looked at her. "Take a deep breath."

"I'm ready," she told him firmly and found that she was. Though she would never admit it, talking with Raoul had helped her regain control of herself. "Just tell me when."

He nodded, turned off the flashlight and then pulled the shutter up slowly. When there was enough space, Ema opened the doors to the small balcony and stepped out onto it; her eyes swept across the figures on the ground below, all of whom turned up and looked at her in unison when she came in sight.

"Hey guys," Raoul called, leaning against the stone railing next to her, the shotgun between his legs. "You know you're gonna pay for all the damages to my property, don'tcha?"

A couple of more figures appeared from under where they stood, apparently giving up on the 'theatrics' of smashing down the front door; the woman with them (probably the one who'd been taunting her) laughed when she saw Ema. "_Finally_," she sang. "I was beginning to wonder if we hadn't killed you with fright!"

Ema gripped her gun tightly. "Go to hell."

"Ya gonna come down, or are we gonna have ta _drag_ ya down?" the man next to the woman said.

"How about a third option?" Raoul quipped and Ema saw his hand reach for his weapon.

"And what's that?"

"_This_, _you asshole!_" And with no other words, Raoul yanked the shotgun up into his hands and fired. By the time Ema reacted, following his lead, he'd already cocked and fired again; all hell broke loose when they returned fire until the woman screamed for them to stop and then they stumbled and ran, shouting orders to one another. As Ema continued to shoot, she was dimly aware of a darting figure in the trees to the left but even this slight attentiveness was lost when some of the men started to show an alarming amount of interest in Raoul. Instinctively she moved closer to him and saw, with some satisfaction that they hesitated, lowered their guns and began to retreat again.

The two friends gave no inch though; Raoul was dropping them like flies and even if she wasn't getting through them with the same speed, Ema wasn't going to show them any mercy, she would not waver and she would keep going until she got them. Perhaps if the attack had been intended for her, she wouldn't have been so cold-blooded but that someone was targeting her friends drove her onwards and she showered bullets on them endlessly, pausing only when she needed to reload.

"Don't let them get behind any of those trees," Raoul ordered.

Ema obeyed: she aimed at the ground before them to send them running the other way and when they retreated, she shot to kill. She watched them fall one by one, her aim getting sharper with each kill, and was only distracted for the smallest moment when Raoul paused and she feared he'd been hit. When he returned with a rifle, she moved closer still; the sound of gunfire echoed around them deafeningly and she had to remind herself, when more men came pouring into sight from the sides, that the aim was to cover the sound of Deston's movements. As she waited for the fresh wave of thugs to take place, she glanced up and caught sight of the target; he was a large man — or maybe that was just the bulk of the armour he'd donned — and he watched the fight like a statue, unmoving, unresponsive and unafraid, courtesy of the comfort his weapon no doubt provided him. She wanted to shoot at him, every protective instinct screaming at her to do something so Deston wouldn't have to fight him but she knew at this rage, with her weapons and against his protection, she would make no difference.

_Leave it to Deston. Trust him…_

She'd barely finished reasoning this out when two things happened: Raoul cursed, stumbling back a little and she swung around to look at him, alarmed to see him clutching his face — he was bleeding where a bullet had grazed him — followed swiftly by heavy gunfire

"_Shit!"_ she snapped, pinning herself against the wall to evade the attack. She looked at Raoul who was pressed up against the other side. "Deston's—"

"He's fine."

Raoul gestured over the balcony and Ema followed the direction of his finger, her eyes expanding with shock when she saw Deston who'd made it to the other side. Fire shot out of his arm in a great wave and straight at the armoured man, who recoiled instantly with a shout, stumbling. Another figure leapt at Deston but he swung his elbow back into his stomach, turned to aim and another burst of fire caught the man in the face, eliciting a scream which was cut short by a gunshot. Ema's concentration turned to awe, leaving her frozen just the way it had the first time she'd seen him fight; he moved faster than his opponents could think and every time he went for his target and someone tried to stop him, he swatted them off like flies, burning, breaking, shooting…

"Come on," Raoul muttered, pulling her forward again. "We need to keep them off him."

And the gunfire resumed, punctuated by shouts and screams every time Deston's flamethrower found a victim. Ema lost track of what was happening, her focus once more entirely on anybody aiming for Raoul or Deston. She didn't know how many men came and went — only that a pang of frustration hit her as a third wave piled in and she wondered where they were coming from. It was only when a grenade was fired that she looked up from her task to see an explosion light up the base of a tree. Several figures flew through the air at the impact but amidst it all, her eyes sought her friend and when several endless moments passed in which Deston could not be found, she feared the worst.

"Focus, Ema!" Raoul snapped from next to her, the bullets pouring out of his rifle.

His words were almost drowned out by another explosion, this one so close that she felt the house shake.

"_Pezzo di merda_!" he roared. "_WATCH WHERE YOU AIM THAT GODDAMN THING!"_

That's when she spotted him: he was carrying the grenade launcher in his arms, looking dishevelled but otherwise victoriously laughing as he turned and aimed at another group of men. "Sorry!" the agent laughed.

"Unbelievable," Ema muttered out of relief, taking aim again.

"No shit! That _coglione _is gonna be the death of—"

Ema whipped around when someone crashed into Raoul and she'd turned her gun on the assailant, her finger pressing on the trigger when something heavy slammed into her head. Pain shot through her skull with a familiar crackle and darkness slipped over her sight, littered with sparks that turned her vision hazy. The sound of gunfire faded a little and even as she tried to keep upright, Ema felt the dull pain in her knees that told her she'd collapsed.

_No… NO!_

She had to get up… She had to fight… Raoul… Where was Deston…?

The sound of shouting and grunts came together in a confusing jumble of noises suddenly punctuated by the petrifying sound of a gunshot. It was close… _too close_…

She waited for something to happen: for the darkness to take her or her vision to clear but the sparks only burned and fizzled no matter how much she blinked. She had no idea how much time passed before her shoulders were unexpectedly lifted and she realised it truly was over — they would take her to Irina and she would finish her off…

"Ema."

…_wait…_

"Ema? Can you hear me?"

…_she knew that voice…_

"She's bleeding. That bastard got her hard."

…_and that one too…_

"Just keep her there."

_What the hell was going on? Were they okay? Who..? _She blinked furiously. _If only these goddamn lights would— ah, there they go.._

As if her body had finally decided to obey her, the world slowly came into focus again and she blinked some more, her gaze falling on the face hovering above her, his face showing deep concern. "Seren?"

"How do you feel?"

"Where's Raoul?" She instantly turned to look for him and relaxed when she saw the red-head leaning against the balcony door one hand pressed to his bleeding arm. A body lay at his feet and behind him, Daryan stood over another, his foot pressed up on the man's heaving chest.

"Stay down," Seren told her quietly, petting her head a moment then picking up a gun and glancing out over the railing then stepping aside. Ema almost jumped when she saw a figure clamber over the side, afraid it was another attacker but relaxed when Deston dropped to the ground beside her. "Hey," he said gently bending over to examine her. "You did great."

"Gee, thanks…"

"I got a few questions for you…" Daryan said in a deceptively quiet voice, his dark eyes fixed on his captive.

Deston ignored him, his fingers touching her head gingerly. "Sorry," he murmured when she winced at his touch.

Ema's voice was cut off by the attacker who coughed and glared up at Daryan. "You're a brainless _fuck_ if you do—"

The detective rammed his boot into the man's neck, cutting him off. "I didn't ask anything yet, _boy_," he said chillingly. "Now… who did you come here for?" He waited a moment for a response and when he got none, the pressure of his leg increased. "Speak up."

"Maybe you should take your foot off his larynx," Deston said genially, still checking Ema over though she barely noticed anymore — she was transfixed by the exchange, staring intently as they waited for an answer.

Daryan smirked darkly and lightened the pressure. "Quickly now. We're in a hurry."

"I'd rather die than answer to you, _punk_," the man snarled back.

Daryan took his leg off, reached down to grab his shirt and hauled him to his feet. "Then you're no use to us," he hissed menacingly.

"_Darya_—" Seren started warningly.

Daryan wasn't listening: his arms clamped around the man's neck, hands fixing on his head and—

_Crack._

Ema winced at the sound and again when the body hit the ground with a dull thud. She turned away, her gaze landing on Deston whose attention was now fixed on Daryan, his features terse with disapproval. "What?" Daryan said. "No use wasting a bullet on the jerkweed."

"We'll talk about this later," Deston said, sliding his arms under Ema and scooping her up. "We need to get out of here before we get anymore company."

"I can walk," she said.

"You got hit pretty hard, Ema. Come on, guys, let's get out while we still can."

"It's too late for that," Seren said quietly, peering out of one of the other windows.

Deston paused, Ema still in his arms and sure enough the sound of an engine dying filled the silence, followed by doors being slammed and footsteps on gravel. Raoul rose to his feet slowly, picking up a gun with his good arm and Ema was about to insist she be let down when there was a sharp intake of breath from Seren whose uncharacteristic cursing sent a chill through her: "Oh holy fuck…_ No…_"

"What now?" Raoul snarled.

The answer came from below them; Leonardo Rainsford strolled into view, unperturbed, alone and unarmed. He looked around at the body-littered ground with some interest before glancing up and smiling when he saw the group on the balcony, his expression genial. "Well, this is going to be a mess and a half to clean up, boys."

Raoul growled and instantly moved onto the balcony. "I'm gonna put a bullet hole in this motherfuc—"

"_NO!_" Seren bellowed, shooting forward and gripping Raoul's shoulder.

The Italian paused, his gun half raised at Leonardo as he glanced at Seren, clearly unsettled by his reaction. "Why?"

Several men traced Leonardo's footsteps, pulling a frail figure with them as they went and suddenly Ema understood the panic in Seren's voice because she could feel it beginning to deluge her own blood.

_No… No, no, no… __**No**__..._

"_Dio…"_

Leonardo's smile widened at the visible shockwave that crashed over them at the sight and he held a hand out towards his men as if to display a prize. "I believe this belongs to you, Detective Crescend…"

Ema heard the breath leave Daryan's body in a sharp exhale of terror when one of the figures detached itself from the group and moved towards Leonardo, her figure still clad in the hospital gown that had been her companion for so many months.

"_No…"_

"Now, my offer is simple," Leonardo said calmly and placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes glittering up at them. "Give me Ema… And I'll give you Tessa."


	5. Bring The Pain

Bring The Pain

.'.

In a dark place, thickly coiled,

Crimson ribbons on the mist,

A shadowed mind by hate spoiled

And her lips pursed, terror kissed

'.'

It was past 4 in the morning but the small group of men sat with their arms resting on their knees, their heads bowed, wide awake. In the tense silence that cloaked them, the knock was loud and startling despite its half-heartedness. One glanced at the others as he rose, going to the door and, turning the lock, he slowly opened it. His eyes widened when he saw the visitor; she stood alone, covered head to toe in soot, blood on her hands and tracks left by bitter tears on her blackened cheeks. Alarmed, the others rose but before any of them could reach for her, she let out a sob that froze them all where they stood: "They're dead..."

.'.

_**24 hours earlier **_

Ema didn't even realise she was moving until she had one leg swung over the balcony, ready to climb down, and Deston had grabbed her by the arm to yank her back. She struggled against his hold, demanding to be released but his hold on her only tightened. "Do you really think he'll release Tessa if you go down there?" he said firmly, looking her in the eye.

"I'm hurt, Mr Cavatin," Leonardo called up, apparently having heard. "Do you think me incapable of keeping my promises?"

Leonardo didn't get an answer: there was a collective calling of Daryan's name from the boys as he jumped over the same balcony and climbed down, ignoring them when they tried to stop him. He scaled the wall fast, jumping the last couple of feet to the ground and spun on the spot, his dark eyes fixed on Leonardo. "Take me."

Ema's eyes widened and she looked at Deston waiting for his interjection but the agent was oddly quiet.

"But you're no use to us, Mr Crescend," Leonardo said genially. "I need Ema and it appears only a woman can break you guys."

Daryan was visibly having a hard time with his composure; his shoulders straightened as if he was bracing himself. "There's no use taking my wife. They don't give a fuck about her, hell they barely know her. You think they're gonna give you Ema in exchange for Tess?" He made an audible sound of derision and everything in Ema screamed in protest of that statement but the way the boys around her tensed kept her quiet. "For a man who's supposed to be a great adversary, you sure overestimated them," Daryan continued with a scoff. "You've got a better chance of getting Ema if you have me."

Raoul had apparently had enough as he went over the balcony next, snarling as he dropped to ground beside his friend and grabbed his arm. "Are you fuckin' stoned?"

Daryan pushed him away aggressively, cussing. "Isn't that the truth? If you invested even half the time you do protecting Skye in protecting Tess, she wouldn't be here now! Face it, Adagio, you don't give a shit about my wife." Ema watched as Raoul tried to keep hold of him, muttering something incomprehensible only for Daryan to shove him away again before turning to Leonardo. "You got the wrong person if you want Skye. They're never gonna trade her for Tess."

Leonardo smiled. "Perhaps not…" He slowly raised his eyes to Ema. "But are you willing to let her die?"

Ema's breath caught in her throat just as Daryan let out a growl, launching himself forward only to be grabbed by Raoul and held back. It had been obvious what Leonardo's ultimatum had meant but finally hearing what he intended to do to Tessa left her cold. As she tried to dispel the fear that had tightened its grip on her throat, cutting off her voice, Deston stepped forward.

"Leonardo." Deston's voice was steady. "Give us Tessa and we will drop the investigation against you and your sister."

Leonardo tilted his head curiously. "But Mr Cavatin…" His tone was politely confused. "Your investigation has never been of any threat to us."

"Then what do you want?" Raoul snapped.

"It's simple: you killed one of us. Common courtesy requires we even things out." He looked pointedly at Ema. "It was Klavier who had our father murdered."

"Murdered?" Seren said in a quiet voice. "Your father paid for his crimes."

"Ah, Mr Aded," Leonardo sighed. "How many people have you killed? And have they all been guilty?"

Ema felt Seren stiffen next to her.

"You believe the lives you take are justified by the badges you all carry?" Leonardo swept his sharp eyes over all of them. "What makes you so different from my father?"

"What makes us different is we don't kill our family!" Ema exploded, finally finding her voice.

Leonardo laughed. "Then you don't know your friends as well as you thought, Miss Skye!" He stepped forward, throwing his arms open fearlessly. "Your boyfriend gave his brother up to the dogs!"

"Because Kristoph is a psycho!"

Leonardo ignored her. "Mr Aded there—" he pointed accusingly at Seren, his arm extended upwards straight as an arrow "—killed _his_ own brother in the name of _duty_!"

Ema glanced at Seren, her eyes wide.

"Mr Crescend here!" Leonardo chuckled. "He had his crime waivered because the state wanted his help with something they deemed more important — more important than a _child-pinning murderer_…"

Daryan growled but it was noticeably less ferocious than before.

"And Mr Cavatin… Ah, Mr Cavatin." Leonardo looked thoroughly gratified, as if he had reached the apex of his enjoyment. "Mr Cavatin broke all barriers – pun intended – and encouraged Uncle David to kill his brother with his own two hands. How very Cain and Abel."

Ema looked at Deston again, disconcerted by Leonardo's twisted perception, but he was just smirking, his arms crossed as if he was entirely unaffected by Leonardo's words.

"Tell me, Ms Skye," Leonardo continued. "How are we different? Except that you all hold a badge that allows you to murder as you please and we…" He smirked. "Well, we know the true meaning of family."

"I've had enough of your cake-hole," Raoul snapped. "You ain't gettin' Ema and if you take Tessa, you're—"

"But I won't take Tessa, Mr Adagio," Leonardo interrupted, looking politely confused again. "She will accompany me. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Ema's surprised melted into outright shock when Tessa said nothing to contradict him, opting instead for a nod.

"Tess," Daryan said, his voice terse. "What are you playing at?"

But Tess didn't answer and a strange stillness fell over them: Tessa was by no means a rebellious woman but she could certainly not be characterised as meek either. The fact that she hadn't said a single word since coming into sight combined with the empty look on her face disturbed Ema: a sick, heavy feeling was beginning to settle in her stomach as she stared at her friend, taking in things about her that had gone unnoticed. She was staring straight ahead as if she was entirely unaware of her husband's presence or the situation at hand. It was almost as if she was in a trance.

"Tessa is currently preoccupied."

"Preoccupied with _what_?" Daryan demanded, his eyes fixed intently on his wife's face.

"With following my orders, of course," Leonardo said genially. "She is being rather compliant, aren't you, darling?"

Daryan growled, lunging forward and once more being held back by Raoul. "_WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?_"

Leonardo smiled at one of the men beside him and nodded. The next few moments were a blur to Ema: Raoul shouted, Seren jumped over the balcony and Daryan was clutching the side of his neck, his ferocious expression melting into a less fearsome one, confusing and something else taking its place. Ema had one hand on the fence, the other caught in the iron grip of Deston's hand as he held her back and both watched as Daryan stumbled, kept from falling by Raoul.

"Not to worry," Leonardo said genially, ignoring the gun Seren was pointing into his face although his men had reacted by pointing their own firearms at Tessa – whose lack of concern for her husband's well-being was now really starting to frighten Ema. "We're just making sure he behaves."

"Let Tessa go," Seren ordered, unfazed by the weapons aimed at him.

"Mr Crescend," Leonardo said, ignoring Seren. "Please shoot yourself in the foot."

Ema was mid-scoff at the stupidity of that request when Raoul grabbed Daryan again with a shout: the detective had swiftly shifted the barrel of his gun so it was pointed at his foot and it was only due to Raoul's reflexes the bullet barely missed his foot, firing into the ground beside it. In the resounding echo around them, Ema and Seren stood frozen in shock, Raoul cussing for all he was worth as he took the gun away and Deston… Deston hadn't moved. He stared at Leonardo unflinchingly.

"You see? We don't make Tessa do anything she doesn't want to do, just the same as we can't make Daryan do anything he doesn't want to do." Leonardo smiled. "We recognise the difficulty of this choice for you guys so we'll give you some time to consider it - you have four days. We will contact you then."

If Deston answered, she didn't hear it. When Ema saw Leonardo starting to guide Tessa away, she reacted: she couldn't remember how she managed to find her way to the bottom – maybe seeing the boys scale their way to the ground enough times had given her subconscious the tips she needed. All that she knew was she was running towards the men with a single thought in mind that burst from her lips: "Let Tessa go! I'll come with y—"

She didn't need to look at who grabbed her because his voice hissed in her ear seconds later: "No, Ema."

She couldn't tear her eyes from Tessa's almost vacant expression. _"I can't let Tessa get hurt!"_

"They're not going to hurt Tessa," Deston's tone was urgent. "But if you go with them now, you won't live."

"_**I DON'T CARE!"**_

Deston's grip on her only tightened and no matter how much she struggled, she couldn't break free. A hand stemmed her mouth and Leonardo, who had paused to watch the scene with some interest, looked pleased. He nodded at Deston. "I will contact you three days from now. Oh and Mr Cavatin… I want Mr Sloan's body back. Yes, I know—" He held up a hand to cut off Seren who had begun to respond. "You can't and all that but Irina really wants him back."

Silence met him this time. Even Raoul was quiet.

"Someone will drop by the morgue to pick him up – where I have been reliably informed he still resides – and I suggest you comply without a fuss, gentlemen." He wound an arm around Tessa's waist to make his point. "We don't want any more unpleasantness do we?"

The question hardly required a response and it was probably why he didn't wait for one. Throwing them all each one last meaningful look, his eyes lingering on Ema, he motioned for his guard to escort him out of sight and Ema and the boys could do little more than watch him in horror, shackled by a terrible decision and helpless to save the friend who had just begun her sojourn back into life.

.'.

_**20 hours to go**_

It hadn't taken long for Ema to start trying to convince the boys the best thing was to let Irina have her. It would save Tessa and possibly end this war. Rafael had made it clear Irina's obsession with her would leave nobody safe – she would keep hunting and destroying whatever came in her way as long as Ema was out of her reach. Why couldn't they see that her life was not worth the trouble they were going to in order to protect it? Yes, it would cause people grief but in the end, life would go on and the pain would fade away. It was nothing compared to the endless pain that would be caused if she lived. Why couldn't they see that she wasn't being a martyr? That this was just the fastest and most logical way to end the horror that had taken over their lives?

She tried all avenues of logic to make them see things her way but they barely listened. In fact the only time they acknowledged that she had even said anything was to snap at her, essentially telling her to shut up. It didn't help, of course, that Daryan was in hospital with a heavy dosage of some alien drug in his system apparently reducing him to a puppet. Seren nor Deston had heard of it and the sight of not just a friend but one of the most wilful men they knew losing his ability to rebel left them all unnerved and extremely agitated.

And how would they explain, once he snapped out of it, that they couldn't find his wife?

It was when that question came to Ema that the first stirrings of a plan came to be. It had not yet fully taken hold when she asked Deston to take her home — and of course he dropped her off at one of Klavier's many mansions (where they had taken up residence upon their return) while instructing the guard to double their security. He hadn't offered to join her or even to check on Klavier and she understood. It was true the younger Gavin was going through a difficult time but Daryan's predicament with Tessa had taken precedence. Before Ema had had a chance to ask Deston if she could tell Klavier what had happened, he was gone.

So, when she opened the door and let herself in, she was grumbling to herself and too preoccupied calling Deston a fop to immediately notice that Klavier was sprawled out on the couch, a bottle barely hanging from his hand as if it wanted to avoid the same fate as the ones lying on the floor. Accompanying the bottles were files, some strewn about, their contents spilling out while a few lay stacked in a perfect file to the side, clearly untouched. When Ema's eyes landed on the sight, a frown formed on her forehead that deepened as she got closer and saw a picture laying just south of the bottles: Shadi Enigmar.

Ema's heart sank. Klavier had made the connection…

Quiet as she could, Ema gathered the files and slid them onto the table before turning to pick up the bottles which she also set on the table. Just as she was prying the last one free of his fingers, Klavier stirred, a groan escaping around inaudible words. Taking the chance to yank the bottle from him, she placed it beside the rest then touched his arm gingerly. "Klavier?"

He didn't respond save for running a hand over his face with another groan.

"Come on," she said, tugging on his shirt. "You need to go to bed."

He peered at her from under his arm and then sat up suddenly, his groggy expression turning concerned. "What happened?"

She was confused (and a little distracted by his alcohol-riddled breath) when he took her chin in his fingers, using it to turn this way and that and then remembered what had transpired before Leonardo's appearance. No doubt she was still covered in soot and possibly even a bit of blood. "I was investigating with Deston," she said dismissively, trying to ignore the stench of vodka. "Fell and got myself dirty."

It was a weak lie but she hoped that in his (probably still) inebriated state he couldn't employ his prosecuting powers to see right through it. She didn't think explaining to him what had happened would help — or if it would even register.

"I missed you," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his cheek against hers.

She allowed herself only a moment to comfort him before tugging on his arm again. "You need to get to bed."

"Did you not miss me?" he asked, making no effort to stand.

"I did. Now come on."

"I think... _mein brüder_ lied to me..."

Ema's increasing annoyance vanished at those words. She looked at him where he was still hugging her waist and raked a hand through his dishevelled hair. He may be drunk but his feelings were still real and she couldn't ignore the slight panic in his tone.

"Gavin," she said firmly, leaning back so she could look into his face; his eyes settled on her, more vulnerable and uncertain than ever and she felt herself soften further. "Klavier," she murmured. "You have a long day tomorrow. Rest tonight and we'll talk in the morning."

He simply stared at her for the longest moment and she wondered if her words had even registered. Then, he pushed himself to his feet (swaying only a little). "You will stay with me, ja?"

"Well, duh." She tried to keep her tone as playfully acerbic as usual. "Where else?"

Klavier didn't say another word for the rest of the night. His head rested on hers as she took him upstairs where she helped him get ready for bed and tucked him in before sliding into the empty space beside him. She said nothing even when he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, and when he passed out only moments later, Ema lay awake, staring up into the darkness, seeing only Tessa's empty expression, Daryan's collapse and Rainsford's cruel smile. Leonardo's ultimatum echoed all around her, backed by a choir of her friends' protests that she would not be allowed to die; she lay still, sleepless and haunted all night. And when the morning came, the plan that had stirred in her mind was pushed back into the shadows, bullied away by cowardice and her own sense of inadequacy.

.'.

_**14 hours to go**_

She had just fallen asleep when a crash jolted her awake; her body reacted violently, still on edge from last night's events and she was already on her feet, trying to remember where she had put her gun before recognising where she was. She paused, tersely waiting for another sound to enlighten her but when nothing except silence followed, Ema shuffled back to bed.

And then it happened again.

This time she went straight to the window, every fibre in her body stretched taut with tension and some fear. When she saw the guards stationed outside, not even remotely alarmed, paranoia propelled her into wondering if they were traitors who hadn't been working for Irina and Leonardo. However, the illogical nature of this idea followed by the sight of Deston's car made her change her mind. If something was wrong, Deston would have already been at her side by now. Nevertheless, she grabbed her gun from her bag as she headed out of the room, still clad in the mess of clothes she'd been wearing last night.

"_Shäme dich!_"

Ema froze at the sound of Klavier's voice, pausing a few feet from the half open door of the study.

"C'mon, K!" Deston's voice was urgent. "I'm not the—"

"_Du bist mir ein feiner Freund!_"

"I _am_ your friend!" Deston said firmly and loudly. "I'm trying to save you the—"

"_Achtung_! Do not trouble yourself on my account!" Ema frowned at the sound of papers being flung. "Who gave you leave to investigate _mein brüder_?"

She paled.

"I know this isn't pleasant to—"

"Pleasant? _Nein_ it is not pleasant!" Klavier snarled. "You take the words of Phoenix Wright as truth? That man knows _nothing_ of honesty!"

Ema frowned, tucking away the gun in her waistband, then took a step forward, all ready to interrupt when Deston's next words stopped her.

"You need to stop being so blind or you'll lose someone. Kristoph was responsible for Rafael's attack on Ema," he snapped. "He doesn't just want Phoenix dead, he wants your girlfriend dead too!"

This time there was no response from Klavier. Everything seemed to have gone still.

"Tell me you don't see the connection, Klavier!"

Ema pressed her back against the wall and took a steady breath. _Kristoph wanted her dead too..._

"Do you have any proof?" Klavier said, significantly quieter. There was the sound of rustling paper followed by more silence. Ema peered through the crack of the door and saw Klavier reading from a crumpled up piece of paper. She stared. What was that?

Her death warrant?

Klavier glanced up, presumably at Deston (whom she could not see). "Where did you get this?" he asked in that same quiet tone, his expression blank.

There was another moment of silence. "Franziska von Karma found it amid Kristoph's correspondence."

"Tell me, _bitte_. Why did she give this to you instead of me?"

Silence.

"It would not have anything to do with you and Wright prying into my family business, would it?"

"K," Deston sounded cautious. "Phoenix and I have only searched for the truth."

"And it did not occur to you that PHOENIX," Klavier hissed, his features twisting with fury, "might have forged this and asked a favour of Miss von Karma who herself is the daughter of the most renowned forger in the _history of the prosecutor's office?_ That he might have dropped this in Kristoph's co—"

"Klavier, be reasonable!" Deston said loudly, cutting across him. "You know that's as ridiculous as it sounds."

"Is it?" Klavier snapped. "Were you not there seven years ago when he—"

"—when he was tricked into using forged evidence?" Ema interrupted loudly, pusheing the door open and stepping in. Deston and Klavier both paused and looked at her, though the latter's eyes flashed furiously at her words.

"Do you have any proof he was tricked?" he demanded.

"Do you have any proof he wasn't?" she shot back.

"Misham testified!"

"Testified to what?" Ema snapped. "All that he testified to was that the page was a forgery made by himself. He never said he saw Phoenix!"

"That does not make him innocent!"

_"It doesn't make him guilty!"_

Klavier paused, his eyes wildly searching her face. "Were you a part of this?"

"A part of _what_?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"No, she didn't have a hand in the investigation," Deston interrupted.

"But you knew," Klavier said. "You knew what they were doing."

Ema was quiet a moment, torn between anger at Klavier for his denial, for his judgment at Phoenix and sadness for the way he was desperately searching her expression, almost as if he was hoping she would prove him wrong. "Yeah," she said finally. "I knew."

Klavier's expression froze for the smallest moment and then twisted into fury. "I see. So you are no different."

"No different from what?" Ema demanded, stung.

"What has this been?" Klavier motioned wildly between himself and Ema. "Were you their little insider?"

"K!" Deston barked.

Ema reeled. For a moment she was struck dumb by his accusation but before either of them could say another word, she exploded, her words poisoned by the anger and horror that had been building inside her for the past few hours. "Oh yeah, big boy! Because that's what this is all about: YOU! The world revolves around you and your problems! Damn, here I thought you'd fall for the possibility there's a world outside of your ego but nope! You have me pegged! You have us _all_ pegged!"

"Ema—"

"No, Deston!" she snapped, raising a hand to stop him while her eyes remained fixed on Klavier's face which was tight with rage, his lips pursed. "Guess what Klavier? There's more going on outside of your world! Maybe if you would open your eyes, you'd see that!" She let out a mirthless laugh. "Wait, what am I saying? You've blinded yourself to the extent that you can't even see what a bastard your own brother is!"

Deston was suddenly by her side, putting a hand on her shoulder. "This isn't helping, Em."

"I don't care! I've had it up to here trying to be patient with him!"

"Patient with _me_?" Klavier laughed. "You are no angel yourself!"

"I NEVER SAID I WAS! BUT AT LEAST I CAN SEE THE TRUTH WHEN IT'S DANCING IN FRONT OF ME!"

Klavier stared at her coldly. "Do not presume you—"

"I don't presume, you fop! That's your forte!"

"You're both acting like kids," Deston interrupted loudly.

"You're so self-absorbed, you don't even know Daryan is in—"

"DARYAN MADE HIS BED!" Klavier roared. "HIS PROBLEMS ARE NOT MINE TO SOLVE JUST AS MINE ARE NOT YOURS!"

Ema instantly quietened at that and beside her, Deston was equally silent. She stared at Klavier incredulously, seeing nothing of the man she had come to love and share so much with — all she saw was an arrogant, immature and stubborn boy who was throwing a tantrum because he didn't like what he was hearing. There was no use telling him about Daryan and Tessa.

And for the first time since they had met, Ema disliked him. Despite all the bickering and insults they had shared, it was now that she actually looked on him with disgust. She rounded on the spot and fled upstairs. She grabbed her bag and coat, making sure never to look at the still-rumpled bed, and then swept back down, meeting Deston who was taking the steps up two at a time, apparently to check on her. Without a word, she grabbed his arm and dragged him back down, sweeping past a still-fuming Klavier.

"I'll see you in court, _prosecutor_," she spat.

Then, without giving him a chance to answer, she left the house, heading for Deston's car. She heard the agent speak to Klavier but paid little attention to the words; her entire focus was wrapped around the effort it was taking not to cry. A moment later, the doors to the car opened and she slid in, slamming it shut behind her.

"Ema?" Deston murmured once he was behind the wheel. She didn't answer him, her eyes staring at the dash.

After a moment, he placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. The walls broke down — and she cried. In that car, with only Deston to comfort her, Ema finally let the sobs go for every ache and pain she had tried to bury: she cried for Deston and Klavier, for Daryan and Tessa. She cried for Phoenix. She cried for all her friends, for the things they had suffered, for the suffering she feared lay in store for them, and she cried for the one person she had refused to since this entire mess had begun — herself.

.'.

_**10 hours to go**_

"Apologies to the defendant," Klavier said, not sounding at all apologetic, "but the show must go on."

Ema watched with disgust as the Judge nodded. "Very well. Your opening statement Prosecutor Gavin?"

"The prosecution's case is unchanged by recent events. Why did Vera Misham succumb to poison? Because she could not live with the guilt of what she'd done."

"Objection!" Apollo interjected vehemently. "Vera was poisoned with atroquinine! The exact same poison that took her father's life!"

Klavier's response was preceded by the loud bang of his fist punching the wall. "What better confession could you ask for? Being the killer, she would have had access to the poison. Significant since it is rather hard to come by."

"Hmm," the Judge hummed thoughtfully "That is true."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ema snarled under her breath causing a few people in the audience to look at her in surprise.

"In other words," Klavier continued in a loud, clear voice, "I see no need for further discussion. We could have had our verdict... yesterday."

"Asshole," she muttered, again just loud enough for those around her to hear the venom in her tone.

"Em," Deston said, putting a hand on hers. "You'll get yourself thrown out."

"I don't care," she said stubbornly, her eyes full of disgust as she stared at Klavier. "If I get to go down there and slap him senseless I'll happily go to prison for the rest of my life."

"And probably ruin the case," Raoul drawled. "They're on a tight schedule, chica. Better not interrupt."

Ema threw him a scathing look. "So glad your wit hasn't suffered." Raoul said nothing but it was obvious that, like the others, he hadn't missed her reminder of Tessa's situation. "Ugh. I'm not sticking around for this," she said, making to get up.

"They might need you," Raoul reminded her.

"That fop won't call me to the stand for anything."

Deston tugged on her hand, gently forcing her back into her seat. "Where are you going?"

"I'm moving back into my apartment."

"It's not safe for you there."

"Well I'm not staying with him!" she said scathingly, looking at Klavjer.

Nobody said anything to contradict her though Deston did keep a hold of her, leaning to the side. Ema's attention focused moodily on Klavier who was now clicking his fingers like the arrogant asshat he was.

"Is that... nail polish? Hmm, it's colourless." A pause as something flickered across his arrogant face. "Ah...!"

"Something the matter?" Apollo asked.

"N-No. Nothing. Nothing at all."

Ema scoffed, once more causing a few heads to turn but before she could throw something at them or make a scathing remark about Klavier's stupidity, Deston pressed a key in her hand. "Move your things to my place. No, Ema," he interrupted when she looked ready to argue. "You don't have a flat anymore."

Ema was outraged. "What the hell—"

Deston put a finger to her lips. "That was Lana's move. Now Agent Ramsey is going to accompany you since I can't. Don't argue, don't try to ditch him and take my car."

She glared. "I do not need a bodyguard."

"Lana wants this too," he said briskly.

Her glare intensified but she said nothing, simply staring for a long while. Deston knew how to play her all right but she wasn't going to just roll over and—

"I mean it," he said sternly, watching her face. "Don't do anything to get in trouble. Please."

"Fine," she hissed, grabbing the keys and sweeping out angrily, not bothering to look back — not even when she heard Apollo's demand for Kristoph to be brought to the witness stand

.'.

_**9 hours to go**_

Ema ignored her guard all the way and he seemed to be quite content with this – he spoke only to redirect her to safer paths ("Better, you take this staircase, Detective Skye.") He was admirably well composed when, each time he spoke, she glared at him or scrunched up her Snackoo bag with anger. He had no idea the real reason she was angry so later, when she'd had time to calm down and think back, she would remember him with good grace.

Deston had done well – of course he would choose someone who remained stoic no matter how much she scowled or snapped. The detective nodded in agreement with everything she said (or snapped as the case may be) and was quiet the rest of the time. Even though she knew Klavier was in trial and (judging by the last words she had heart uttered) he was going to be preoccupied for quite some time, Ema moved as fast as she could, grabbing her bags and stuffing them with every belonging she could immediately get her hands on, all the while trying to ignore how comfortable she had become with the sight of her clothes strewn around his. Ramsey followed her around of course, and no matter how many times she snarled at him to get out of the way, he was unfazed. He spoke only once, asking her if she was done before picking up her luggage and heading down, nodding to security on his way out. Ema followed, too focused on trying to ignore the weight of her decision falling on her chest. She allowed Ramsey to drive, staring out of the window all the while, her mind blank for several moments as she considered her frayed relationship with Klavier – and then, trying to shake loose her misery, she remembered that there were far more important things going on around them.

Like Tessa.

Her heart sank, despair overwhelming her for a moment before she realised she didn't have to sit around and wait for the boys to make a decision on what to do. She was sick to death of being ordered around and treated like a prized possession that needed protecting. She was going to do something about this dammit; she had to! She had to… It was all her fault. Gordon Mazzare was right; it was her Irina and Leonardo wanted and Tessa had just gotten caught in the crossfire – just as she was finally getting better. No. Ema wouldn't let this happen. She had to end this now or everyone around her would just keep getting hurt in Irina's demented, illogical hunt for her. Too many people had already suffered while she weakly protested.

But that was all done. She wasn't going to let others dictate her decisions anymore. And it was with this new determination that the plan which had retreated now emerged once more.

First, she had to get rid of her guard dog; Ema glanced at Ramsey, her eyes calculating. There was no way he would let up or fall for any sort of trick. He would probably wait outside the bathroom for her after bolting the windows shut. Ema scowled at the idea, almost about to insult him when another thought occurred to her: even if she managed to escape Ramsey, where would she go? She hadn't the slightest clue where Tessa might be held and Leonardo had said he would contact them on the third day. If Deston had an idea, he hadn't shared it with her. She had to figure out the answer to that one first.

She glanced at her phone as if expecting a message to magically appear, telling her where she needed to go but the only one she saw was from Deston, asking her to stay inside. She frowned at that, exiting her inbox and locked her phone – right before a thought which had been bubbling in her head finally took hold, causing her to look back at the screen: was it possible Irina and Leonardo were watching her phone? Even if she couldn't believe the boys (especially Deston) could have overlooked such a fallacy, she also couldn't deny that Irina had always been one step ahead of them. After all, hadn't she managed to sneak inside an execution room to watch her father's execution?

Was it possible she could reach out to them?

Throwing Ramsey a sideways glance, Ema unlocked her phone again. She stared at the blank screen, the cursor flashing slowly as it waited for her. For a moment, her mind was blank as if all words had failed her but then her fingers were moving across the keyboard: _Ready to give self for Tessa. Where should I come?_ She paused a moment before tapping her own number in the recipient bar and then hit 'send'

"Shit," she muttered, realising that this message would probably also be seen by Deston who was most likely keeping an eye on her correspondence as he had Kristoph.

Ramsey glanced over. "What?"

"Nothing," Ema said shortly, looking out of the window again. She didn't care if Deston saw it, she decided. She reasoned that if Irina was watching, she would respond fast to prevent interference – and the boys were all in trial right now. The smallest chance that this might pay off was better than no chance at all. She glanced down when her phone gave a small 'ding' as her message came back to her then looked away again. She just had to wait now.

They reached Deston's property (once they had made it past the heavy duty security wandering the grounds), had unloaded her car and moved everything inside and still, Ema had no text. Each minute was heavy, made all the heavier by the effort she made to keep her emotions under control. If Deston had chosen Ramsey, she didn't doubt he would easily pick up on her behaviour and something told her he would not put it down to what was going on between her and Klavier or the trial – or maybe he would and she was just being paranoid.

Ema went about furnishing a room she had chosen at random. She was in the bathroom when she first heard it: a loud thud, like something heavy had fallen. She knew Ramsey was nearby (having been in her room checking it over) so she simply put it down to his clumsiness. When she growled and marched out, ready to verbally abuse him, she found him on the floor in a crumpled heap – and it was then she realised how off-character her assumption had been. Had she really expected Deston to choose a clumsy agent (if such a thing even existed)? She blinked at him just for a split second, not really seeing the third figure that stood near the doorway. When she did look at him, however, it was with a blank expression; she surveyed him apathetically, the events of the last few days seemingly having drained her of emotion.

He was unlike the rest of Rafael or Irina's people which consisted solely of tall, intimidating and powerful looking men, usually in their prime. The man before her was of medium height, stocky and middle-aged. Grey streaks heavily lined most of his black hair and his features were surprisingly peaceful and soft. He regarded her calmly and when she was through with the inspection, seeing no visible weapon, she met his gaze again.

He smiled and when he spoke, his voice was as soft as his expression. "Morning."

"How the hell did you get in here?"

"You have been having a hard few days, haven't you, love?"

She almost recoiled at the endearment but managed to keep her poker face. "To put it lightly. I wouldn't advise pushing my buttons. What the—"

"I'm trying to locate a certain disc," he explained before she could even ask, and made a sweeping gesture with an arm. "I'm wondering if you can help me."

"Oh yeah," she said sarcastically. "Just tell me what disc you want and we'll start looking!"

"It contains footage of Raina Aeron's death," he said, ignoring her sarcasm. "Leonardo gave it to Deston but my boss wants it back."

Ema raised an eyebrow. "He does, does he?"

"He's not my boss." He crossed his arms, tapping his chest with his hand. "I'm Gordon Mazzare by the way."

The first thing that registered was the way he corrected her assumption that he worked for Leonardo. The next was his name. It slid through her mind like a snake, setting off a few bells along the way until she remembered where she'd heard that name before, and her eyes narrowed for a split second. "Is your boss in the habit of retracting her gifts?"

"It was on loan."

"I see. And now she's ready to collect."

"Yes she is."

"Sound like something worth keeping," she said, cocking her head back with a smirk. "Even if I knew where it was, I wouldn't help you look for it – solely because she wants it."

She expected him to lose his benign smile or at least show some displeasure at how uncooperative she was being but he simply nodded. "You don't know where it is. That isn't your fault. I can help you though."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Why the hell would I need your help with anything?"

"Did you not reach out to us for young Miss Tessa's location?"

_It worked…_

Ema glanced out of the window to hide the surprise in her gaze as she replied glibly. "Well, you guys work fast."

"I wish we could claim that much credit but I was already here when we received your text. So I decided to wait."

She turned back to him. "You were here looking for the CD?"

"Exactly," he said with a nod, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "It is you that Irina wants. Miss Tessa was unfortunate enough to get caught in the crossfire. If I'm not mistaken, you're willing to take her place if your friends would allow you."

"Tell me where she is," Ema demanded, taking a step forward.

"Check your phone," Gordon said quietly. "You already have the location."

Ema made to reach for her phone but instead she slid her hand to her back and firmly gripped her gun. His eyes followed her movements and she was certain he knew what she was doing but he did nothing to retaliate. "What's to stop me from killing you now?"

"You don't want to attract attention from all the guards outside," he said simply. "That address will be useless to you if you can't out."

Ema gritted her teeth at the truth of his words and averted her eyes, her grip tightening on the gun just for a moment. _You have to keep calm if you want any chance of saving Tess… _

"A wise decision, detective."

"What did you do to him?" she demanded, pointing at Ramsey.

"He'll just sleep for a while. Don't worry." Gordon gave her another gentle smile and Ema did stare this time; she had come to expect malice in Irina's men but this man… this _assassin,_ known for killing Klavier's parents… was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Ema forced herself to look away from him, digging out her phone and glancing at it to see that there was indeed a message from a blocked number. "If you go there," he added, "Miss Tessa will be free to go."

"Tessa is there?"

"Yes."

"And what guarantee do I have?"

"You have none but my word – trust me, Miss Ema. The people in my business lie and deceive far less than your kind."

There was a part of her that doubted it would be that easy and it was that part that fuelled the scoff that escaped her… but, she reasoned glancing up at Mazzare, she had no choice — she had to go and if Tessa wouldn't live then Ema would be there to die with her. "Fine."

"Would you like a lift?"

"No thanks," Ema sneered. "I can drive myself."

Mazzare smiled and inclined his head, clear satisfaction in his movements. Once again, Ema resisted the urge to hurt him. "I'll see you soon, Miss Ema," he said kindly. "If you wish to bring ammunition, I have discovered a compartment under the second and fourth staircase. Just press the second panel up from the ground on the second and the fourth on—"

"—the fourth. Yeah. Thank you for being so _helpful_," she said snidely, trying not to show her anger at the apparent whimsical amusement in his tone. Were they really so confident she was a done deal that they were putting a gun in her hands?

Gordon smiled, still unfazed by her behaviour; he saluted lazily, turned and left.

Ema stared at the spot long after he was gone before she turned to the fallen agent and started to work on moving him to the bed, grumbling the whole while. She wasn't actually aware of what she was saying as she worked, her mind obviously trying to keep itself preoccupied. She was going to take this one step at a time, she told herself — she was going to do this as simply as possible. Death wasn't really that big a deal was it? Not when it was to save a friend. And she'd seen proof that there was an afterlife… Many people had died for far less. Many had remained undiscovered and forgotten. At least she had a purpose. At least people would remember her…

"All right, you useless lump," she grumbled as she hauled Ramsey onto the bed. "Rest while you can. Unfortunately for you, Deston is going to likely kill you for messing up." She gave a grunt as she straightened him. "Don't feel too bad about it though. At least this won't be for nothing."

"Aren't you noble?" a voice drawled behind her.

Ema whipped around at the voice and her eyes going slightly wide at the owner who was lounging in the same spot Mazzare had been in. "You're supposed to be in hospital!"

"Contrary to what a friend once said," Daryan smirked, "clinical shit isn't my thing. I got a wife I want back."

"Oh yeah," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm again as she turned back to Ramsey and pushed him a little further on the bed. "Because you're in top form to undertake a rescue mission."

Daryan watched her struggle without showing any interest in helping her – though whether that was because he wasn't interested or because he knew she would bite his head off was unclear. "Even on my worst day I'm more competent than you."

"Go to hell."

He smirked again, leaning against the doorframe. "So, you coming with?"

"Do you have an address?"

"No, but I overheard your conversation with Hannibal Lecter," he drawled, running a hand through the jagged ends of his hair.

_Hannibal Lecter?_ "I'm going alone."

"That isn't going to go over well, you know."

"I won't be around to see that, will I?" Ema said irately.

"Fat load of use that's going to be to Tessa."

"Well dying isn't exactly going to do her any good either."

"Then how about we quit arguing and get a move on?" Daryan said, standing straight and looking at her seriously. "I want my wife back and Klavier's gonna want his girl too. I don't care what spat you're having," he added when he saw her scowl heavily, "it doesn't mean he won't spend the rest of his life writing pathetic love songs if you kick the bucket. Do the world a favour and don't try and play the martyr. It won't end well for anyone."

"You're supposed to be in _hospital_," she repeated angrily. "You'll just slow me down."

"Shut up, Skye," Daryan snapped. "My wife's life is at stake and you're boned if you think I'm gonna let you walk out of here without me. You either comply or I tie you down, take your phone and go alone. Having you along will make things easier if they think you're there to surrender but if you're gonna be a pain in my ass, I'd rather leave you tied up here. What's it gonna be?"

A vein had started pulsing in her temple but she managed to hold herself in check, too much at a disadvantage to disagree (since she didn't doubt at all that he would do what he threatened) and way too proud to simply say yes. So, instead, she glanced at Ramsey's body and a thought occurred to her. "You were here the entire time? Listening to what that dickhead was saying?"

"Language, detective."

"Answer the question," she snarled.

"Yeah I did."

"And you didn't bother knocking him out?"

He shrugged. "What would be the point of that?"

"Excuse me?" Ema tried not to let her incredulity show — it was Daryan after all. He'd been prepared to let a kid take the blame for his crime. Could she really expect much from him?

"If I'd knocked him out, we wouldn't have an address would we?"

"Of _course_. Never mind that he might have tried to drink my blood."

"Don't be a drama queen, Skye," he said with a smirk.

"I'm not being a drama queen!"

"Drink your blood? Leave the dramatic lyrics to the band and Klavier's cheesy writing." His smirk widened though she did notice, despite her anger, that it didn't reach his eyes. "Now how about we stop talking about your need to play damsel in distress all the time and get a move on?"

"I hate you."

"I know."

She paused at the twinge of regret she felt, prompted by the harsh words, and then a more uneasy feeling washed over her. She regarded him, her uneasiness growing when she realised that it was very likely Daryan would easily feed her to Irina's blood-thirsty hunger if it meant he could save his wife. No matter what the others said, his unconscionable behaviour in the past had made it clear that Daryan had a very loose, very warped moral compass not to mention very violent and brutal tendencies. Could she really allow him to come along? But just as her disquiet was growing, she shook herself mentally at the strange direction her thoughts had taken. After all, what did it matter if he betrayed her? She had planned to go into this without any hope for a return. As little as she trusted or respected Daryan, she knew they had one thing in common: they both cared about Tessa and they both wanted her safe above all else. In fact, she told herself, having him along was more effective than having any of the others because he wouldn't spend the entire time trying to save and protect her. They could both focus on the mission.

With the argument resolved in her mind, Ema steeled herself and addressed him briskly. "We need guns and—"

"This way," he said, turning fluidly and leaving the room. She glanced at the still unconscious man on the bed before following quietly all the way down to the ground floor, stopping in the study where Daryan was surveying the floor, moving around.

"Mazzare said there were weap—"

"Dickwad doesn't know shit," Daryan grunted and kicked in a panel in the floor, the movement producing a whirring sound beside a book shelf: part of a wall slid away to reveal cases upon cases of weaponry (surely this wasn't legal?) which Daryan instantly had his hands on, pulling them out and opening them. She didn't wait for an invitation to join in, assembling every gun and rifle she unpacked, pausing sometimes when she found one she didn't quite know how to work but Daryan always took it from her and set it together. They didn't speak until a question which had been nagging at her prompted her to finally address him; "What were you doing here?"

"Looking for the disc," he answered, strapping on a harness.

She paused to look at him. "The same one he was looking for?" He nodded. "Why were _you_ looking for it?"

"Because there might have been a clue. Mazzare just confirmed that."

"But why would Irina give it to us if there was a clue to it?"

"She didn't give it to us," Daryan said. "She gave it to Deston who'd have been too whacked out watching his girlfriend die to notice anything of importance."

"Bitch."

"It's missing anyhow," Daryan muttered.

"Missing?" Ema echoed surprised. "If Irina doesn't have it then who took it?"

"Des either hid it real well or one of the others got to it before I did."

"…is it possible Deston broke it or something?"

"He's too obsessed with revenge to break something that might help him." He yanked several straps on the harness tightening it. "Doubt he's had the balls to watch it yet either."

"How would you know?" Ema snapped. "Deston's the strongest man I know!"

"He broke down just 'cause Rainsford told him Raina died screaming. If you think watching her get tortured to death wouldn't have left him suicidal, then you don't know him as well as you think."

Ema opened her mouth to make another retort but Daryan had already stood up, armed, so instead, she hurried to follow, her own harness fixed on within minutes. Tucking all the weapons in place, she stood too, pulling her keys out of the bag she'd tossed aside and swept past him, muttering, "I'm driving." There was no protest from Daryan as he followed but he did grab her hand for a moment.

"Put your coat on," he said quietly. "You can't let security see you leave like this."

She looked down at herself and realised he was right. Waving for him to wait, she raced upstairs, taking the steps two at a time and searched frantically in her room for her lab coat – it was just when she found it that she heard a slight groan and whipped around to find that Ramsey was moving, a hand sluggishly moving to rub his neck. Not willing to give him a chance to see her, she turned on the spot and ran out, pulling her coat on around her form, subconsciously thankful that it had always been too big for her. "No time to explain," she said heatedly when Daryan raised an eyebrow at the speed with which she was moving. She grabbed his hand and pulled just as they heard Ramsey's groaned call for her.

"Huh, expected him to be out longer," Daryan said as they headed out, both of them decelerating for the sake of the security guards watching.

Ema opened Deston's car, slipping behind the wheel and started the engine just as Daryan got in on the other side. He'd barely closed the door before she revved the engine and turned the vehicle around. "You aren't going to turn into a zombie slave are you?" She saw him yank something out from inside his jacket and wave it around in response. "Face masks? How the hell will that save us from darts?"

"They won't but darts are easier to dodge than airborn drugs."

"This drug is that potent?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

He smirked. "Ask Denson the next time you see him."

"Why are you always insulting his intelligence?" she demanded. "He's cleverer than all of us put together."

"You should be careful about who you put on a pedestal, Skye," he said, rolling his back into his seat.

"Just… shut up…" Ema mumbled, slowing the car as she waited for someone to open the gates that would grant them the exit they needed. Impatiently glancing in the rear-view mirror, she saw Ramsey's form stumble out to the front but it was too late – the gates were open and she revved the car again, sending it rolling at high speed/

"You know how to drive," Daryan drawled as they swerved onto the road, clearly ignoring her request to stay quiet.

"Daryan?"

He glanced over. "Yeah?"

"I had a fight with Klavier…"

"Yeah, I can tell. He's got a log stuck up his—"

"My friends keep getting hurt… Tessa got kidnapped…"

"She won't mind too much. I can just hear her: she'll be all about telling our future kids how—"

"I'm pretty sure," she interrupted again, kicking up the speed some more, "that I'm going to die where I'm going. I'm miserable right now, okay? So do me a favour."

"And what's that?" Daryan smirked, clearly confident she wasn't about to meet her demise.

"_Shut the fuck up."_

.'.

_**4 hours to go**_

"Well?" she asked, her voice soft and her eyes inquisitive as she looked on Gordon.

He stood before her, his arms crossed. "I have Sloan's body. They released him just as you asked."

"Good. Throw his body to the wolves."

Gordon's face remained unchanged. "Literally?"

"Yes. Let them drink his blood… if they'll have him…"

"What did he do?"

"Disobeyed my orders in favour of my father's," she answered softly. "He doesn't deserve the honour of a burial."

Gordon surveyed the young woman in front of him, wondering what could have driven her to such cold and dark depths. He couldn't boast goodness but he had chosen this job because he was good at it: his natural talent made it easy and the money was good. He had never taken any particular pleasure in any of it. But Irina… she found new and creative ways to desecrate the dead and torture the living. He had watched her since the day she was born and with each corner of life, she had sunk deeper and deeper into the shadows, consumed by darkness and evil that far transcended anything he was capable. And though he was not afraid of her, he didn't relish double crossing her – ever.

"When do we expect Miss Ema?"

"Miss Ema and Mr Crescend set off an hour ago. They should be almost there."

"They're alone?"

"Yes."

Irina's lips curved into a lovely smile as she stared out of the window, her thumbs hooked into the belt of her skirt. "Alert the men. Nobody is to hurt Miss Ema."

"Certainly," he said with a bow of the head. "Will you be staying?"

"Of course," she said softly and though he couldn't see her face in the dark, he could hear the smile in her voice. "Let the games commence."


	6. World Without End

Update delayed for so long because my Twinkie made a duckface at me.

Shame on you Twinkie.

Please forgive me guys. I swear I won't make you wait another year for the next update.

Please do leave me your thoughts in a review - it's a great encouragement to writers (and the kick we need to stop us from leaving it this long!)

* * *

><p><span><strong>World Without End<strong>

.'.

Sacrificed to the altar of your lie,

We watch the starts fall and burn.

One by one, we surely die—

And our ashes await your turn.

'.'

_**2 hours and 25 minutes to go**_

Their route had only been an hour's drive but, knowing that Deston would now know she had given his guards the slip and likely guessed her reason for it., Daryan had suggested making a detour to dispose of her phone elsewhere in order to throw him off; he had instructed her to wrap up her phone in a plastic bag and swing it out of the moving car as they passed a river opposite to where they were really headed. Ema had pointed out he would probably see through the ruse long before he found the phone and Daryan had agreed the chances were slim but they had to try. Though she didn't voice it, Ema was certain this deception would trigger Deston's fury and were she not already facing an uncertain end at her destination, she would have been thoroughly afraid.

"Interesting," Daryan muttered looking around at their surroundings.

Ema was fairly certain he was thinking the same thing she was: they had been sitting in the car for several long moments now, staring out through the rain as if an army of gunmen would descend on them. She had expected open ground, a single building perhaps – something that would have made their reception less inconspicuous. Instead, they found themselves among myriad buildings, derelict but tall and, coupled with the cloudy night, giving them just the perfect cover.

"Why would they bring her here?" Ema said, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was trying to sneak up on them from behind. "Isn't this giving us an advantage?"

"Double-edged sword." Daryan was scanning the buildings. "After all, we don't know which one Tessa's in."

"It's still a more complicated method than—"

"At least, that's what she thinks," Daryan continued firmly.

Ema looked at him questioningly but there was a dark triumph in his features, twisting them until he resembled the man who had coldly tried to manipulate his way out of a conviction. She was momentarily unsettled as she realised she had absolutely no trust in this man – no matter what defences the other set up for him, it was this look on his face that made it impossible for Ema to ever trust him.

"She miscalculated and underestimated… She got cocky," he said with a bitter laugh. "But she's going to regret it."

"Irina?" Ema said, unsure.

"Come on," was all Daryan said in response, opening his door and slipping out. Ema followed without question and both of them were soaked instantly as the rain pounded down around them, turning the ground beneath their feet to mulch. She had questions but dared not speak as they hurried in the dark, drawing their guns; stealthily, they both headed towards a row of storage units as fast as they could with Daryan taking the lead, glancing around the corner before turning back to Ema. "Nothing I can see."

She blinked away the rain, straining to catch sight of anything that would tip them off against a threat. "Do you think there are cameras?"

Daryan glanced at her before scanning their surroundings once more. "If there are, I can't see them."

"Reckon this will work?" Ema said, yanking something out of her pocket and holding it up for him to see. He paused and stared at it then grinned.

"Des underestimates you," he said, snatching it off her.

"Will it work at this range?"

"Oh yeah," Daryan laughed, jimmying the device. "As long as we keep it on us, it'll disable signals in the vicinity."

"They can track our movements through interference," Ema pointed out but Daryan shook his head.

"This thing has considerable range," he said. "We could be going one of many ways."

"Good thing I brought it along then."

"Where did you get this, anyway?" he asked, still messing around with it, a frown entering his features.

"Deston's got a bunch of stuff lying about."

"Probably 'cause it doesn't work," he grumbled and tossed it on the ground, irritated. "We'll have to take our chances."

"Guess Deston— where the hell are you—?" she hissed when Daryan suddenly took off without warning, forcing her to follow swiftly, knowing she had to keep close to him if she was going to cloak both of them. He stopped by another row of storage lockers and Ema punched his arm. "Would you mind telling me where the hell we're going and what we're doing?"

He barely responded to the punch, silent as he stared around the corner for a long moment. "She's in that building," he said, turning back to Ema, nodding for her to take a look.

A little surprised at his certainty, Ema peered around him. "The big one?"

"The one on the left to it." Ema examined it: there was nothing about it that set it apart from the other two. In fact, they all just looked like abandoned warehouses, the walls heavily graphitised and the windows empty of glass. Her eyes were drawn to a particularly hideous graffiti of a clown's head that spanned at least two storeys high up on the structure – had this been Irina's work? "No," he said, having guessed her thoughts. "Don't reckon she'd waste time doing something like that but she sure as hell would pick it for the taunt-factor."

"That's why you think Tessa's there?"

"That's why I _know_ she's there." Daryan shook his head. "It's just like the bitch to mock us this way."

"What the hell is up with all the ruined sites?" Ema said, irritated. "She and Leonardo really have a thing for drama, don't they?"

He threw a hollow smirk her way. "She's a nostalgic wretch. She likes to revisit the places she's razed."

"That building's been rotting at least half a decade," Ema said.

"And?"

"…whatever." She ignored the inconsistency and gesticulated with her gun. "What are we doing now?"

Daryan handed her his gun before pulling out the rifle strapped to his back and checking it. He threw her a grin, brushing wet hair out of his eyes and winked. "Ready for a firefight?"

"What?" she demanded, gripping the guns tighter in her hands. "You're just going to go in there guns blazing and get us shot?"

"I understand you're used to the overly-methodical plans of the great Cavatin," he started with a patronising drawl, "but I work a little differently. Now I won't promise you won't get shot but I'm not gonna open fire and call the army to us. I do actually have a plan."

Ema's face flushed angrily. "You're a dickhead."

His smirk widened into a toothier grin. "Really? Was it the pompadour that gave me away?"

"On second thoughts, go ahead. I don't care if you get hurt!" she shot back, reaching back to tie her hair up. "I hope they blast your thing off."

"I love it when you talk dirty."

Ema swung at his head but missed as he took off again, which was probably for the best as the butt of the gun would have probably hurt him more than wise for their situation. She cursed under her breath but followed, keeping him covered as he zig-zagged between debris and concaved constructions until they were close enough to hear voices.

"—did you see what she did to Sloan's body? I've got no plans to end up like that."

Daryan grabbed Ema just in time to hide her from the owner of the voice as he emerged from the edifice of a shattered glasshouse. Pushing her down behind the wrecked remains of a car, he stretched himself up a few inches to look over the boot and Ema watched his face for any reaction in case she needed to spring into action but he was calm. His cold eyes flickered calculatingly to three separate locations before he looked down at her and, tapping the silenced gun in her hand, made a two-fingered gesture over her shoulder: she turned slightly to follow his gaze and found a brawny man talking to a woman, the posture of his body making it obvious he was more interested in his partner than watching for any intruders. Ema turned back to Daryan who then motioned the other way: she found the more cautious guard standing several feet away, examining his surroundings and she realised what he was saying. They had one silencer and three targets – all of whom they had to dispose of before they noticed what had happened – assuming they were able to hit them all on the first round — and raised an alarm.

"What if one of them alerts others?" she mouthed, thumbing the dilapidated structure the guards had emerged from.

Daryan shook his head and gestured with his hand again which, with all her training, she took to understand meant he would physically dispose of the solitary man while instructing her to take out the pair making out. Ema nodded.

"Don't miss," he whispered, slipping off.

She turned back to her targets with a focused look and checked her gun before aiming it discreetly while watching Daryan's target out of the corner of her eye. Praying she was fast enough to avoid a mess, she waited – and when the body was jumped on by a shadow, she reacted instantly; two swift whistles were followed instantly by the splattering sound of falling bodies in the mud. Ema glanced up to look at Daryan who beckoned her jerkily and she went after his disappearing frame.

"There's two more," he muttered brushing some rainwater out of his eyes, stopping her just behind the remains of an wooden structure. He pointed out their next targets and Ema's eyes narrowed when she saw one of them was the woman who had mocked her just a few nights ago. As the taunts started to echo in her mind, Ema found herself aiming – and shot. The woman fell without a sound and as her companion turned to catch her, Ema's next whistle was cut short by his downfall.

"Nice shot," Daryan complimented her in a light voice running a hand over his drenched hair. "But couldn't you have waited to get your sweet revenge? You just gave us away."

"What?" she snapped, looking around. "There's nobody arou—"

Her words were swiftly cut off by a hail of bullets. Daryan grabbed her and without wasting another moment, pulled her behind a large pillar. She cursed herself, hearing the splashing of boots in the rain, and when she looked around the curve, she saw that she had indeed brought out several dozen guards who were all focusing their shooting in their general direction. Glancing at Daryan, Ema pulled on the rifle she had strapped to her back but he put a hand to her arm, motioning for her to wait. His expression was strangely composed for the situation and he simply rested his head back, keeping his hold on her as if he didn't trust her not to shoot without his permission.

"What are you doing?" she said, yanking on his arm.

His grip tightened. "Just wait."

And then, almost as if he had known it was coming, the shooters all stopped at once. There was a long silence in which the resounding echo of the bullets mixed with the sound of heavy rainfall but there were no approaching footsteps nor any sort of movement and the knot in Ema's stomach tightened until she could hardly bear it.

Then beep of a radio broke the silence, swiftly followed by crackling and then—

"It's nice to see you out of prison, Daryan." Ema's head whipped towards the soft voice; even over the radio there was no mistaking its owner "I expect you've come for your wife. We've taken good care of her, don't worry. You can have your wife back in less than 10 minutes," Leonardo continued without an answer. "If you'll give me Ema."

She looked at Daryan whose head was still casually resting back against the stone pillar. His eyes lacked any real alarm or fear and instead, he seemed to be staring up with a more curious look than anything else. "You should do it," Ema murmured. Daryan's only response was to tighten his hold on her wrist.

"I know it's a difficult choice," Leonardo went on. "And I know you need time to accept the choice we both know you're going to make—" Ema's eyes remained trained on him but Daryan only smirked "—so we will retreat. I give you 30 minutes to decide."

He betrayed no emotion but Ema could easily imagine the turmoil he was going through and for the first time since his trial, she began to feel true empathy for Daryan. She reached up to wind her hand with his, gripping it tightly as she watched him and, finally, she saw the first trickle of it as his features became strained. All around them, footsteps were heard retreating as ordered and it wasn't until the last shuffling faded into the distance that he finally turned his head and looked down at her.

Ema's breath caught in her throat: his eyes were full of steel as they searched hers, liquid pools of cold silver that pierced her chillingly. It wasn't fear for her own life that sent the shiver down her spine – she had already offered her life in exchange for Tessa's. It wasn't fear for the fate that awaited her inside that building – hadn't she already been subjected to physical pain? No… This fear was different. She had felt this fear only once before and it had been so deeply mixed with awe and elation, she had barely been able to recognise it until now when she was faced with it a second time. She had thought only Deston capable of such cold fury but here she was, seeing it in Daryan's eyes.

"We're through losing our women," Daryan said quietly, staring at her long and hard. "We're done with our women being used as an Achilles heel. We're going to end this pattern tonight."

"If I give myself up, you—"

"—would never be able to face my wife or my best friend," Daryan cut her off. "You aren't going anywhere."

She stared at him, trying to find a way she could make this sacrifice without putting him in such a tough spot but the expression on his face made it clear that he was adamant. She wasn't going to get away with this and trying to fight it would only waste time they didn't have. "What now?" she said, glancing around the pillar.

Daryan did the same on the other side before tugging on her hand. "This way – and no more shooting."

.'.

_**2 hours and 20 minutes to go**_

Seren turned the disc over and over between his fingers, staring at it stonily. Raoul sat beside him, his eyes fixed on it as if he was hypnotised. Their faces were ashen, their hands trembling – no amount of violence in their careers had prepared them for the contents of the footage Leonardo had invited Deston to watch; they had loved Raina so much and for so long they had only imagined what she had been subjected to before her death…

The truth was worse.

"It's not a commonly known fact," David said, breaking the silence, "but my brother lied to most of his children about their parentage."

"Not too surprising," Kade added quietly. "Rafael saw the ones he liked and devised whatever lie was best to keep them under control."

"Except Irina was a risk that cost him his life," Simon said leaning back in his seat. "I don't think he saw her betrayal coming."

Seren twirled the disc around his forefinger, lost in thought not even disturbed when Raoul stood and started to pace before suddenly swiping several things off the mantelpiece angrily, leaning against it. His breathing ran ragged from the explosion of rage as he got out just one word: "Raina…"

David, Kade and Simon were silent, letting the two Gavinners accept their grief, to come to terms with the horror they had been confronted with. The screams were still resounding in their ears, leaving all of them haunted by the sheer brutality of the experience.

"We have very little choice," Seren said after a long moment, calm as ever. "This footage is worthless."

"Worthless?" Raoul echoed, turning on his friend. "_Worthless_?"

"We know who we're after," Seren answered, unfazed by his friend's anger. "This won't help us catch her."

"I beg to fucking differ."

"Listen," Seren said, rising to his feet. "We have too much shit to look after right now. Klavier needs our help—"

"Maybe if he'd quit being a tubby bitc—"

"Enough," Seren cut across him sternly. "Just stop, all right? He needs us and that's all that matters. I'm going to go to a specialist about this disc and _you_—" he raised his voice when Raoul seemed ready to interrupt him "—are going to go find Klavier and keep him from doing anything stupid."

The idea seemed to sober the Italian who looked sour at the prospect.

"David," Seren added turning to the trio sitting quietly. "I need all the information you can get me on this." He waved the disc.

"Right."

"You two are going to lie low here—" He motioned at Simon and Kade both of whom nodded. "We're going to get to the bottom of this once and for all."

"You know this won't end well," Simon told him, his face sombrely scrutinising Seren.

"We've known that for a long time, Mr Lowes," Seren said quietly.

"We don't fucking care how it ends anymore," Raoul growled.

Seren nodded, his face devoid of emotion now. "We just want it to end."

.'.

_**1 hour and 50 minutes to go**_

The rain hadn't let up. It pounded hard on the ground and filled the silence that had fallen around them. After the retreat of their attackers, Ema and Daryan remained hidden beyond the pillar, wordless and still. She didn't dare ask him what he was thinking or what he wanted to do, sensing that all-consuming rage that filled him was still wreaking havoc on his temper. She had no idea how far off the reservation he could go – despite the similarity to Deston, she had seen nothing to guarantee that he could keep himself in check. After all, despite how furious and violent she had seen Deston become, she was still unsure how far he could go and if he had displayed even a modicum of restraint, she dreaded to think what Daryan would be like.

But, more than anything, it was the way he held her that kept her quiet. There was no doubt that neither of them had been particularly close; she had only gotten to know Klavier and his friends since Daryan's trial and as such had spent little to no time with the fallen detective and yet here he was, holding her as if his life depended on it. So she remained still, knowing that they would only move when he was ready and to ask him to do otherwise could end very badly for both of them. When, at last, Daryan let her go, his face was filled with a calm that, far from reassuring her, sent her heart racing. There was nothing calm about this Gavinner – this she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"How do we get her?" Ema asked, finally breaking the silence. "We have under an hour before Leonardo sends his goons out here."

"No we don't," Daryan said with a glance around the pillar to scope out the situation.

"What?" She looked at him sharply. "Why not?"

"Because he already knew my answer before he posed his question." He turned back to her. "The moment we move, his people are gonna start attacking."

"How do you know that?"

"Trust me," he said with a bitter smile. "I know."

Ema didn't bother arguing. "Then what do we do?"

"We run," he said simply. "Towards the north east building."

"And hope for the best?" she scoffed.

He smirked. "Of course not. You shoot back."

"Fine but if I get shot, I'm ripping you a new one, Crescend." Ema checked her gun without hesitation, making sure it was loaded then quirked an eyebrow at Daryan when she caught him staring at her with a strange expression. "What?"

"Y'know," he said in a thoughtful tone, "I never saw what the deal with you was until now."

She tried not to scowl but it manifested itself anyway. "Gee, thanks."

He seemed not to realise the potential insult in his words. "You're a good match for Klavier. I see what the others mean..."

She tried to ignore the tightening she felt in her chest a those words, ignoring the memory of her fight with Klavier. "Let's not do the 'goodbye, I-really-did-secretly-appreciate-you' speech."

He smirked again. "Hey, learn to take a compliment, Skye." He raised his rifle and cocked it. "And by the way, I didn't appreciate you getting me arrested."

"I didn't appreciate you pinning the crime on a kid," she retorted.

The widening of his smirk reassured her he wasn't insulted by her words and he gave her a nod before taking off into the open followed by Ema a moment later — and both were met with a hailstorm and flash of shots. She raced onwards, paying almost no attention to the sound of ricocheting bullets, the shouts of people nor the splintering objects as they took the attacks meant for her. She focused only on her path and ensuring she overcame all obstacles in her way as she went for the building — she didn't even know where Daryan was anymore, knowing (praying) that once they reached the building, she would find him. In the back of her mind, she faintly registered that Daryan had indeed been correct and Leonardo had only lied when he had promised to grant him time to make his decision. How had Leonardo known he would refuse to give up Ema when Ema herself had been so unsure?

She didn't have time to answer that question, subconscious or otherwise. An overlooked can in a particularly unstable spot caused her to lose her footing and it was only a combination of muddy terrain and a conveniently placed crate that saved her from the hail of shots that concentrated on her stumble. She slid to her knees, spinning across the slick earth and pressed her back up against the temporary shield; with the way the shots were now being directed at her, she knew the splintering wooden obstacle wouldn't last long. She looked around, furiously searching her surroundings for a more suitable shield while attempting to pick apart the sounds. Everything seemed to be coming for her now, more voices headed her way and she wondered if this meant she had drawn attention away from Daryan.

Her heart pounded as an idea dawned on her. Could she draw them away? Would this given Daryan a better chance of finding Tessa? With this hope giving her the adrenalin boost she needed, Ema pushed herself up onto the soles of her feet, trying to see the position of her attackers to ascertain the best way for her to run and avoid their shots. The moment she caught sight of them, they seemed to spot her too and a bullet barely missed her, grazing her neck. Instead of allowing shock to slow her down like they probably expected, Ema took off again, running in a straight line adjacent to all of her pursuers. Their aim was always just a few centimetres behind her, the splatter of mud shadowing her footsteps as if the devil licked at her heels. Her eyes were fixed on a mass of metallic objects that lay a few yards ahead; she wasn't close enough to the building to safely keep on running.

But before she could reach the new shelter she had spotted, a body collided with hers, taking her to the ground. She raised the gun to shoot the new assailant in the face but he slammed it aside with a growl, pinning her down with his body.

"If anyone gets to shoot someone around here, it's going be me, babe," he snarled and then, without saying another word, or even allowing her to identify him, the man wrapped his arms around her, grabbed the gun and shot something (someone?) behind her. In that moment, when he turned his face and the light from the gunshot lit up the air, she caught her breath, suddenly terrified.

"_Deston_?" she gasped.

"Get up," he ordered, rising and pulling her up unceremoniously. Ema had barely got to her feet before he started to spin and turn her, lifting her up and pushing her back up against things, firing at people with each move. She could barely keep up with him, able to do little more than act as his graceless dancing partner and the resting point for his rifle as he let out a hail of bullets.

"You're going to be the death of me," he barked, his words just about audible over the gunfire.

Without giving her a chance to respond, Deston grabbed her wrist and started to run, dragging her up a set of stairs. Disoriented from being yanked around, still reeling from his sudden appearance and the eerie silence that had momentarily fallen, Ema tried to catch her breath. Then, just as they reached the top, Daryan came into view, firing and in full swing. Deston ran past him and pushed her through a doorway before turning back to grab Daryan and pulling him out of the way of an incoming grenade that rocked the ground and practically threw the two men through the entrance.

"Get up!" Deston snapped again, the first of the pair back on his feet and grabbed Ema again, pulling her along up another flight of stairs. She ran with him, finally starting to regain some awareness and letting go of her shock. She glanced around behind her, making sure Daryan was still with them then back to Deston, at last registering the look of grim determination on his face. A small smile broke onto her face, which was absurd given the circumstances but there was something about his presence here that both relieved and amused her. How could she have thought they would be able to get this far without the SS agent hot on their tail? Of course he was going to find them and suddenly, her idea to try and outrun him seemed more ridiculous than ever.

She saw three guards at the top of the staircase who had spotted them but instead of slowing down, Deston ran faster, ramming his shoulder hard into one of them, using the momentum to lift the man over his shoulder and send him flying backward down the stairs. Ema shot down the next one who was gaining on them while Deston kicked out the legs from under the third, headbutting him hard enough to make him stumble.

"See ya later, motherfucker," Daryan called, lazily pushing him over the balcony as they went past him.

They rounded around another landing and ran up another flight of stairs led by Deston but, running low on ammunition as they were, he slowed them before getting to the third landing. Though Ema could hear several voices, Deston was more preoccupied with the surrounds and after a moment of scanning the area, turned and motioned for the other two to go back down. They did as he asked without question, Daryan dropping his rifle with a loud clatter as it had now run out of bullets and pulling out his handgun and a knife. Deston paused just outside a door and listened for just a few seconds before kicking open the door to reveal two more guards.

"Surprise, assholes!" Daryan laughed, jumping one before he could even react and snapping his neck. Ema followed suit, shooting the second in the head without hesitation and behind them, Deston shut the door. Hearing the sound of radios and gunfire fade as the door shut let Ema relax for a moment before the sound of a crack made her spin around.

Deston had punched Daryan squarely in the jaw.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He shouted at Daryan's turned face. "_What the hell were you thinking?_"

Daryan said nothing.

"You promised us you wouldn't pull shit like this again!" he hissed, smacking Daryan's shoulder. "So what the fuck is this? Huh? _What the fuck is this?_"

Still, there was no answer and Ema watched, astounded, as Deston grabbed Daryan's jacket and pushed him against the wall aggressively.

"Answer me!" His voice was rising dangerously and she took a step towards them, nervous that Deston would seriously hurt Daryan if he kept this up but before she could intervene, he finally spoke.

"I wasn't gonna let her get hurt—" Instead of calming Deston, the answer seemed to aggravate him even more; he slammed Daryan against the wall harder.

Ema took another step forward. "Des—"

"You fucking asshole!" Deston snarled viciously. "You think you can walk into a trap and expect to keep her safe. You _know_ everything is stacked against her!"

"Do you expect me to let my wife rot here?" Daryan asked coldly

"Nobody expects you to desert your wife!" Deston shouted. "But we don't expect you to endanger Ema either!"

"Deston, he wasn't—"

"I told you we would get Tessa back!" Deston went on, apparently oblivious to Ema at the moment.

"I want her back alive!" Daryan countered loudly. "Not in a body bag!"

"Listen to what you're saying, man!" Deston roared, pushing himself away and staring at his friend with disbelief. "Do you have such little faith in your brothers?"

She didn't hear Daryan's reply (if he even gave one). Ema grabbed Deston's jacket and, with all the force she could muster, yanked; successfully managing to pull him away from his friend, she got between the pair, putting a hand to their chests to keep them from going for each other, though most of her attention was focused on Deston. He was breathing heavily, his black hair drenched and sticking to his face which was tight with fury. She noticed now the blood that dripped from his hands and stained his clothes though he showed no signs of being hurt. "Just calm down," she ordered him, keeping her hand on his shoulder. "There are enough people out there trying to kill us without turning on each other."

His silver eyes flickered down to hers and she gulped despite herself. Her best friend was staring at her with a furious snarl and she was certain that had their situation not been more pressing, she would have burst into a string of defensive arguments about why she had done what she had. As it stood, she just stared back, keeping her voice level. "I know you're angry, and you can chastise me as much as you want later but right now we have to find Tessa, all right?"

Deston's jaw clenched but he seemed to agree with her; with the same gruff voice, he addressed Daryan. "Any ideas on—"

"Basement," Daryan interrupted, rubbing his jaw.

"Why?"

"Because that's where she is," Daryan said impatiently. "And I ain't got the time to explain how I know that. You just made our job harder by bringing us up here."

Deston's eyes flashed. "I know this place inside out, Daryan," he snapped. "And you know it."

"Then why the hell are we still standing around talking?"

Ema was looking between the two as they spoke, sensing something was going unsaid here but she knew it was neither the time nor place. Deston had already checked the mag of his gun before locking it back into place and glancing at her. "I'm not done with you yet — and don't imagine for even a second that you'll get out of it by dying here tonight."

"Yeah yeah," she said dismissively though she did avoid looking at him by changing out her weapon of choice.

"Lead the way, Denson... My wife isn't a patient woman."

Deston grabbed Daryan as he seemed to be headed out back the way they had come. "Not that way, jackass," he said with uncharacteristic condescension. "You want me to lead so follow."

Daryan didn't seem offended that Deston had hit him then insulted him — Ema suspected there was an element of guilt to his tolerance. With a faint smile, she slowly walked to them and the latter turned to put his hand on her back. "Get between me and Daryan," he ordered in a no-nonsense tone. "I'm not letting you out of our reach now."

Ema was wise enough not to contest that even if she felt another pang of irritation that he continued to treat her more like a damsel and distress and less like a colleague. "There's another way down?"

"This building was used for SS training a decade ago before it was bombed," Deston explained he took them across the bridge, the metal grill rattling beneath their feet. "Then it became a meeting ground for shady dealings."

"You wouldn't have been in training a decade ago though," she said, still trying to figure out what Daryan had meant.

"No," Deston answered shortly, clearly not willing to discuss it. "I wasn't."

There was something in her question (and his answer) that stirred her memory, a weird sense of déjà vu taking her. She glanced over her shoulder at Daryan for an answer but he seemed preoccupied with their surrounds so she turned back to their leader, making an absentminded mental note to ask him later — if there was indeed, a 'later'. Holstering her gun a moment, she reached over her shoulders to tie back her hair which had come loose, eyes still flickering all over the place as if expecting an attack. Despite the fact that silence had cloaked them thickly, it seemed inconceivable they had escaped a firefight.

Just as she had got done thinking, something rocked the foundations and everything moved, some dust shaking loose around them. Deston ran off without a word and Daryan and Ema didn't hesitate to follow suit. Rounding around a corner, he led them over another bridge, motioning for Daryan to keep an eye on the space beneath their feet when their path took them over a large hall. Her eyes flickered down as well but she quickly looked away when she realised how high up they were. Keeping her eyes fixed on Deston's back to distract herself, she noted the reason he looked more frightening than usual was because for once, he wasn't wearing his trademark colour. Instead, he was clad in darker hues, lending him an intimidating aura. His leather jacket was ripped and bloodied, the grey jeans likewise damaged all the way down to where they were tucked into his boots. She hadn't realised how much the happy colour had warped her perception of the Gavinner until now.

_Focus,_ she told herself. _Now isn't the time to have revelations!_

Forcing herself to concentrate on the task at hand, she glanced behind her to make sure Daryan was still following. He didn't even spare her a glance, his eyes fixed on the area beneath the bridge, so she scanned their surroundings: the place was so derelict and run down that she was surprised it was still even standing. The corrosion of some structures made her wonder how many more bombings the foundations could withstand before everything came crumbling down — she hoped it would be after they had all escaped. Being crushed and/or suffocated was not the way she wanted to go – if she was going to die, she wanted to die fast and easy.

Deston stopped suddenly, bringing the other two to an equally abrupt halt to avoid colliding into one another. Ema peeked around him just as Daryan hissed, "_What's the problem?_" but before he could get an answer, a hiss of a swear met them followed swiftly by the snapping of a neck. A body fell in a heap at Deston's feet and he turned to look at Daryan coldly.

"Think you can keep your trap shut?" he said in a misleadingly casual tone.

A chill went down her spine at the sheer brutality of Deston's actions, the flippant way he was behaving after having killed someone. This wasn't the man she was used to…

Daryan scratched his cheek. "Yeah," was his only response to his friend's irritated question.

It wasn't long before they were off the bridge and in the remains of room; Daryan motioned for Ema to be wary of a large crevice in the wall that could easily act as a window for anyone looking in. Deston was looking between two walls, an intense look of concentration in his features as if he was lost wile Daryan waited with visibly increasing annoyance. Ema made a calming motion with her hand him when she saw a tick visibly start up in his jaw – she had faith in Deston. If he said he knew a way, then he knew a way and arguing with him certainly wasn't going to make him remember things faster.

Almost as if he was drawing from her confidence, Deston went down on a knee and pressed a hand to a tile, feeling around the edges before he handed his gun to Ema and tugged out a knife from inside his boot. The blade slid easily into the side, then underneath and, with a grinding noise, managed to lift it; he tossed it aside to reveal a space just big enough for their frames to slip through.

"I'll go first," Deston said, taking his gun off a stunned Ema (did secret passages really exist?). "Wait for my signal – Daryan, make sure you moved the slab back in place."

Daryan didn't seem pleased that he would have to spend time trying to cover their tracks. He gave a curt nod and glanced at the doorway again as his friend slid down the space with a flashlight, catching himself on a ladder that now became visible. Heart in her throat, she waited tersely and watched him descend hoping there weren't any guards waiting to ambush him down there. After a moment, there was a clang and the light (which was really the only thing visible to her now) suddenly fell a few feet. Her eyes widened with shock, wondering if he had slipped but there was no groaning and as she crouched to get a better look, Deston's face was somewhat illuminated when he turned the light this way and that. Sighing with relief, her shoulders slumped until he shone the flashlight upwards and motioned for her to climb down; without hesitation, Ema tucked her gun into a strap across her chest and copied his movements, keeping her back pressed against the wall of the narrow opening, hoping it would keep her from falling.

"Stop," Deston said suddenly when she had climbed a good way down and she froze. "You're going to have to jump a few feet. Just let go and I'll catch you."

Ema's lips pursed. "I may not be an _SS agent_—" she got herself adjusted before swinging from the last rung just enough that she felt confident letting go and landed with a soft thump in a crouch "—but I _did_ pass basic physical training." She stood up, brushing herself off and looked at Deston, her expression a mix of disapproval and defiance. "So would you quit treating me like a kid?"

His response was to turn away and flash his light to all corners of the room. Up above them, Daryan could be heard dragging the slab of stone back in place and making his way down before he, too, fell down into a crouch (though, admittedly, with more flare than she had). Thankfully, she had moved out of the way just in time to avoid becoming his cushion for the fall and just as she was about to scowl and snap at Daryan for not warning her he was about to land, Deston grabbed and pressed her against a wall, putting a finger to her lips. Daryan was instantly beside them, also pressing his back up against it as voices could be heard approaching.

"It's a waste of time," a woman could be heard saying. "They're not going to be down here."

"I told you, I heard something! The boss said if Cavatin was going to be with them then—"

"He's not with them," the woman interrupted irately. "I know Maresh said he saw him but he was imagining things. If Cavatin was here, this building would be in pieces."

"Don't let the boss hear you sing his praises," her companion laughed, shining a light down the hallway as they approached the silent trio.

"Leonardo can go fuck himself," she snorted derisively. "He's gonna pay when Irina finds out he's overriding her orders."

"If you're so sure, how come you're here?"

"Gotta cover my back, don't I?"

Deston looked at Daryan who nodded and, without warning Ema, both men lunged at the enemy – the man went down in an instant, leaving the woman to retaliate but the gun fell to the ground with a loud clatter as Deston pinned her to the wall. Ema grabbed the flashlight and shone it in the woman's face who was scowling as if she had just come up against something terribly inconvenient.

"Oh hell," she muttered when she got a good look at Deston's face.

Despite the fact that there was no anger lining his face, something about the way he stared at her only alarmed Ema – she was glad to be on his side right now. "Where is Tessa?" he asked calmly.

"Who?" she chuckled.

Daryan growled but Deston's only response was to tighten his grip on her throat. "Don't make me ask again, sweetheart."

Ema couldn't tell if the woman was more intimidated by the hand around her neck or the tone of voice of its owner – either way, she glanced between Deston and Daryan calculatingly, trying to figure out what would be best for her survival. "I can take you there."

Daryan smirked coldly. "Isn't that just great customer service?"

"I asked you a question…" Deston tightened his grip around her neck until she was clawing at his hand and clearly struggling to breathe "…_where is Tessa_?"

"She's down here!" she wheezed, her eyes full of panic now. "Two… Two rooms down the hall!"

"And how many of you are waiting in there?" he went on, not loosening his grip.

"F…Five!"

Deston's eyes narrowed. "You're right, Daryan," he murmured. "That _is_ good customer service."

She was choking now, barely able to get words out. "Please… c-can't… breathe!"

Ema watched with rising trepidation as Deston kept the woman pinned to the wall, his cold eyes staring into her frightened ones without sympathy. For a moment, it looked like this man – who Ema had never seen act unchivalrous to women – would just ruthlessly choke her to death but then, just as her struggling had weakened, he let her go. She dropped, gripping her throat as she took deep, desperate breaths of air and coughed.

Daryan smirked at her. "Lead the way, ma'am!"

The woman glanced from Daryan (who very deliberately twirled a knife between his fingers to make a point) to the body of her colleague which, coupled with the redness she knew was forming around her neck, told her if she wanted to survive, she had to cooperate. Avoiding looking at them now, she forced herself to stand upright and motioned for them to follow her down the hallway to where she had come from. Daryan led the way while Deston glanced over his shoulder at Ema and motioned for her to stay close.

"Just a word of advice," Daryan intoned as they walked. "Don't try and double cross us – I promise you we'll hunt you down and make you pay."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered though she had audibly lost her cockiness and was still rubbing her neck. "There's 5 guards ahead with shotguns and they're fast."

"Only five?" Daryan asked suspiciously.

"Yes, I swear," she answered in earnest and Ema had no doubt she was telling the truth.

"Ema, keep an eye on her." Deston motioned at their captive, handing her his gun. "If she makes one wrong move, shoot her. Daryan and I are going to take care of these assholes."

Ema only lifted her gun in response, aiming it at the girl. "Got it."

Deston threw the woman another intimidating look before slipping off down the hallway leaving the two women alone. The woman slumped against a wall and rubbed her throat (a sight, which Ema was unashamed to admit, she thoroughly enjoyed). As she stood there, watching the woman, Ema's logic kicked into gear and started to piece together what information she had; if this woman was part of the group guarding Tessa, that meant she had more information about the captivity and this meant—

"Why aren't there more of you guarding Tessa?"

The woman looked up at Ema. "Huh?"

"Leonardo went to a lot of trouble with this whole—" Ema waved her hand around to indicate the whole set up "—so why did he only leave… seven? Why did he leave seven people to guard Tessa?"

Still there was no answer – only a pair of cold eyes that ran over Ema with contempt. "It's shocking to think you've managed to piss of Irina so much," she said hoarsely.

"Answer my question."

"Why?" She smirked. "You'll find out soon enough."

Trying not to show the consternation she felt at that promise, Ema changed tactics. "What did you mean Leonardo is overriding Irina's orders? Why?"

"He's an impatient man," she said with a shrug. "Doesn't have the finesse Irina does."

"How did Irina want to do this then?"

An ugly smile curled on the woman's lips and her response sent a chill down Ema's spine. "Slowly."

"Right…" Ema rolled her eyes. "How terrifying. I'm trembling in my boots."

The woman didn't say anything this time, seemingly not needing to comment (or perhaps the strain on her throat was too much) as she just went back to rubbing it. Ema kept a wary eye on her and an ear out for gunshots but there was nothing except silence. Foreboding weighed in her stomach; something about the conversation had unsettled her but she couldn't put her finger on it except Daryan kept returning to her mind. For one awful moment, the crazy notion that he was a traitor flashed through her but it was quickly cancelled out by Tessa's abduction. The idea was ludicrous and only a sign of how paranoid and unsettled this woman had made her.

"You know…" The woman's voice was fast fading. "I'm surprised you and your precious Gavinners haven't f—"

"Ema!"

Both women turned towards Deston as he came down the hallway and motioned for her to follow. Ema glanced at their captive to see how she was responding to the fact that this meant her comrades were all dead but she just swept along as if she was unsurprised and unaffected. Scowling, the detective followed until the darkness of the tunnel receded and light spilled in from a room: the walls were bare cement, a single light bulb hung from the ceiling and five bodies littering the ground. Judging from the lack of blood, Ema gathered this had been a quick hand-to-hand fight they had lost.

"So much for your men being fast," she said smugly.

"How does this open?" Daryan demanded. He pointing at a steel door that Ema was only now noticing: there was no handle and its undamaged, untainted nature told her it had been recently installed.

"Keypad." She nodded to a box at the base of the door that looked equally new: Ema noted several wires running into the ground, barely visible just at the base

"Get busy," Daryan ordered, waving his gun at her.

"What makes you think I—"

"Don't play games." Deston had the woman by the throat and lifted her off the ground so her toes barely touched the ground. He stared at her for a few seconds as she clawed at his arm again. "I know how this works – you have multiple codes and one of them will call out help and we'll get attacked, yada yada yada. But you know who I am and what I can do and I _know _you're not going to make any unwise decisions. Now I'm going to let you go and you're going to provide us with fan_tastic_ customer service and when I'm filling out a feedback form, I'll be _nice_. Yes?"

The woman gasped out what might have been an agreement. Pokerfaced, Ema watched as she was dropped and stumbled over to the keypad without hesitation, wheezing as she flipped open the lid of the box and entered in a number.

"That's a good girl," Deston said patronisingly.

Daryan flicked his knife casually towards the door, motioning for her to go through first. "After you, _ma'am_."

Clearly she wasn't wary enough of them as she threw Daryan a look of pure loathing before standing up and yanking the door open. All three of them froze as the only thing that registered was Tessa, bound and unconscious at the far end of an empty room.

.'.

_**1 hour and 5 minutes to go**_

"Are you all right, Prosecutor Gavin?"

"_You're spinning out of control, Klavier. Calm yourself before you say something you'll regret."_

"…Klavier?"

"_Prosecutor Gavin! Try to remember what's really important to you!"_

"Do you think he's in a trance, Daddy?"

"_I couldn't forget what's really important to me even if I tried."_

What a lie that had been. If he had meant those words, could Kristoph truly have blinded him for so long? If he had meant those words, would he have shunned Deston and Ema when they'd tried to show him the truth? He had let his denial rule him for too long and it had resulted in the death of a man – and he was left with the haunting echoes of his brother's mad laugh, rolling round and round in his ears until he thought he himself would go mad from it.

"Klavier."

He turned from the window when he felt the hand on his shoulder, snapped out of his trance, and found himself facing Phoenix. For a moment, the older man's face barely registered and then a surge of guilt crashed through him, Ema's voice riding the waves. How many times had she told him he was wrong in judging this man? How many times had he arrogantly — _blindly _— rejected her?

"Are you all right?"

His remorse intensified at the concern he found in Phoenix's eyes, concern he certainly didn't think he deserved. "Ja," he said, masking his emotions with a roguish smile. He looked over Phoenix's shoulder to find Apollo and Trucy lingering in the doorway of his office.

"We wanted to come by and thank you," Apollo said a little cautiously as if he wasn't quite sure if doing so would upset Klavier.

"_Nein_," he said casually, playing with his bangs. "I was simply doing what should have been done a long time ago."

It seemed Phoenix wasn't letting Klavier get away with his nonchalant remark. "The last thing that trial was, was simple," he said with gentle smile. "But I had no doubt you would make the right choice."

Klavier's fingers slowed their brushing of his hair as he stared at Phoenix. "No doubt?"

"You were one of the youngest prosecutors this country ever had," Phoenix reasoned. "It's easy to get swept away with elation – especially when the one encouraging you to ride the wave is your own brother."

"_Nein_," Klavier said, shaking his head and his hand dropped to his belt loop. He was staring at Phoenix darkly. "Do not make excuses for me, Herr Wright. There is nothing that can pardon my involvement in the ruination of your career."

"Oh, I don't know," Phoenix chuckled. "I think you've pardoned it just fine by helping me salvage my reputation and putting the true culprit behind bars."

Klavier wasn't convinced but he stayed quiet – what was the use arguing when doing so would only bring more excuses from the man he had ruined?

"Klavier," Phoenix said, in the same calm voice. "Don't be so hard on yourself. There are loads of people who would have acted the way you did. Our bonds to people blind us. Trust me, I would know."

"I should have come to you," Klavier muttered bitterly. "I should have confronted you in private instead of letting my brother sweep me up with his—" he waved a hand around angrily "—his _manipulation_! I was so caught up in the glory of capturing a forger that I let the lie blind me!"

Phoenix watched him calmly, letting him vent and then cocked his head back. "The only guilty party around here is your brother, Klavier. You did what you thought was right."

"Yeah!" Trucy piped in, looking fierce, her hands clenched. "Don't let your brother make you feel bad even now, Prosecutor Gavin!"

"You did everything right today," Apollo agreed. "And you made a really hard choice. Don't beat yourself up over it."

Klavier grinned. "You really do amuse me, Herr Forehead."

"I… do?" Apollo scratched his head with a sheepish grin, obviously trying to figure out what he had said that was so funny.

Klavier gave him a smile, still hiding his true dismay beneath his perfect mask. "It was not that difficult, in the end. As I said in court – I am relieved to finally know the truth."

Trucy bounced with a big smile. "Well then! We were just going to go get some noodles. Would you like to join us? It's Daddy's treat!"

Her daddy suddenly looked a little apprehensive, no doubt fearing for his wallet (which Klavier had heard always took a beating after a successful trial). "Trucy—"

Before he could decline (or even consider accepting just to alleviate the stress on Phoenix by offering to take them out for a meal), his friend's voice made him pause; Klavier glanced past Apollo to see Seren and Raoul pushing their way into the room, the former wearing a look of concern and the latter looking thoroughly pissed. Sensing the tension in the air, Phoenix nodded to them all in greeting before glancing back at the young prosecutor. "I'll see you later, Klavier," he said and ushered his daughter and protégé out of the room, closing the door as they left.

The expression on their faces was enough to alert him to what was wrong and the moment they were alone, the first question out of his mouth was, "Where is Ema?"

"She was under guard at Deston's house but the agent was found unconscious and Daryan and Ema are gone. We found her phone in a river, wrapped up in a plastic bag."

"Wherever they went, they didn't want to be followed," Raoul said sourly. "We spent enough time tracing the signal on it that they could have gone any which way they wanted."

Klavier's alarm skyrocketed. "Where did they go?"

"I don't know. I tried to take a look at it but Ema's phone history has been corrupted," Seren explained. "I've got someone working on it right now."

"Corrupted?" Klavier snapped, fear welling inside him. "How? For what reason?"

"We think she was contacted by Leonardo and—"

"Gavin don't know what happened at my house, you idiot," Raoul said angrily, cutting off Seren mid-sentence and he was glaring at Klavier with something very close to dislike.

"Leonardo?" Klavier echoed, not even noticing the redhead's anger towards him. What had happened to her? Where was she? His mind was reeling with shock and horror and all he could think of was the argument they had had that morning and whether he would have the chance to tell her how sorry he was. "What happened at your house?"

Seren was now staring at him with a sickening realisation. "He doesn't know about Tessa..."

"_Tessa_?" His panic was rising, leaving him frantic to learn what had happened. The fight grew clearer in his head with each passing moment and Ema's words echoed back to him – is this what she had been trying to tell him when she had mentioned Daryan? "What's wrong with—"

Before he could finish his sentence, before either of them could even begin to answer, an explosion rocked the building, shaking the floor violently: screams could be heard mingled with the shouts of security and running footsteps. The Gavinners all looked at each other with grim faces, ready to sprint towards the sound—

And then the ground fell apart under them, taking them in a rain of dust and crumbling cement.

.'.

_**1 hour to go**_

"_Tessa!" _

The fear in Daryan's voice and her lack of response only made Ema's heart pound that much harder as she followed him. _What the hell had they done to her?_ She was bound by metal clamps to an iron chair welded to the ground. One clamp hugged her stomach, keeping her from totally slumping forward. The knife clattered to the ground between his feet as Daryan grabbed her head with both hands and lifted it. "Tessa?" he whispered desperately. "Talk to me, baby."

Her eyes were fluttered as if she was only half aware of her surroundings, her skin was disturbingly pale and there a smear of blood on the corner of her mouth. Ema looked around the chair, trying to get a feel for the clamps while Daryan continued to talk.

"Tess," he said again, more firmly. "I need you to focus. Can you hear my voice?"

"Release her." Deston was the only one who hadn't rushed to her side, choosing to keep an eye on the captive woman; he was waving his gun at her now, nodding towards Tessa. "Quickly."

She moved towards the chair and Ema got out of the way, giving her space to work but staying close enough to jump her if she attempted anything funny. Daryan was still talking to Tessa, trying to get her to respond, ignoring the woman who was reaching under Tessa's seat to do as Deston asked.

Ema saw the sinister smile on her face before she saw the gun. As she lunged to stop her, a gunshot rang through in the silence and the wall behind her was splattered with blood; Ema stumbled, her hands swiping at empty air now as the woman crumpled into a lifeless heap on the ground. She raised her stunned face to Deston whose gun was still raised and aimed at where the head had been just seconds before.

"_What the hell did you do that for?"_ Daryan shouted at him. _"We needed her to free Tessa!"_

Deston looked eerily calm for someone who had just murdered a woman and was motioning at the ceiling. "Something tells me if I'd let her fire that, we'd all be dead."

Both detectives turned to what he was pointing at and inhaled sharply: there, encased in glass and attached to a corner of the ceiling, was a bomb clearly displaying a countdown.

_00:51:09 _

"Fucking hell," Daryan cursed falling to his knees and starting to look around under the seat frantically.

_00:51:07_

"Deston," Ema said in a voice of forced calm. "Can you disarm it?"

He was already tucking his gun into the waistband of his pants, staring at the bomb. "If I can get up there," he said, glancing around. It was only then that Ema noticed how strange the set up in here was: the walls were all covered in massive steel plates, the corners dotted with blinking lights that seemed to be getting steadily brighter. Ema frowned at this set up as it made no sense to her until Deston pressed a hand against one of the plates and quickly retracted it with a grimace. "What is it?" she asked.

"They're burning."

Ema's eyes bulged and before Deston could stop her, she pressed her fingers to the metal as if she needed to test the validity of his examination before she could believe it: she had barely touched it before she withdrew her hand, feeling as if the tips of her fingers had been seared by fire. "Holy shit."

"Fuck it, Deston," Daryan growled. "Help me get Tessa free and let's get out of here. Let this place blow to hell!"

Ema didn't need telling twice as she hurried over to help Daryan search the contraption she was fixed in for some sort of release button and yet all they found was more steel. It seemed like the whole thing had been built around Tessa as there were no weaknesses and the bands around her ankles and wrists so snug that nothing could even slip in between.

"They're remote controlled," Deston said, walking around and glancing it over. "It won't open from here."

"_And you just went and killed the only person who could have fucking helped!_" Daryan shouted.

"She wouldn't have helped," Deston said quietly, crouching behind the chair and examining the floor around the base. "She would have killed us all. Just calm down, Daryan. Getting excited isn't going to help."

"Tessa?" Ema said softly, brushing her friend's cheek. "Can you hear us?"

Finally, she answered, eliciting a sigh of relief from the detectives. "Mmm… Difficult not to hear my husband when he shouts…" Tessa mumbled, struggling to keep her head upright.

Daryan laughed a little at that. "Well, if it wakes ya…" Her head lolled in her husband's embrace causing him to hold her up, his expression crumbling into slight panic. "Tess, babe, I need you to focus. Can you focus on me?"

"I can't… see," she slurred, the words barely coherent.

Ema could see Daryan fighting to retain every bit of self-control he had. "Tess, were you conscious when they strapped you in?"

For a moment, she didn't answer him and it seemed like she had passed out again but then she lifted her head as much as she could and shook her head. "No."

He took a deep breath, obviously disappointed that she wasn't able to give him any pointers on how to get her out. Ema felt panic flare up inside her when she glanced at the bomb again.

_00:45:33_

"Deston," she said in a strained voice.

"I know." He had shrugged off his jacket and taken Daryan's knife to cut up the material which he was now wrapping around his hands as if testing it for length. "I need to get up to the bomb. Daryan, come here."

"I'll be right back, baby," he promised, kissing Tessa's head. "Skye, stay with her." Satisfied that Ema would indeed hold onto Tessa, he joined Deston, staring at the bomb. "You need a leg up?"

With a nod, Deston started wrapping the leather around Daryan's hands and forced them into fists. "I need you to be as still as possible if I'm going to work on disarming that thing," he explained and pointed at the walls. "Prop your hands up against the wall – the material should keep you from burning."

Without any questions, Daryan tightened the leather in his grasp and stationed himself just below the bomb. He crouched a little and linked his hands together hoisting up Deston with his weight and standing as still as possible while his friend sought the appropriate balance on his shoulders. "All right…" Daryan leaned against the wall to stabilise himself. Deston's attention was entirely on the bomb as he removed Daryan's knife from his waistband and slid it along the rim. Ema watched him work, holding Tessa close and petting her hair but she could see the strain on his face; a moment later, he cursed.

Daryan's head jerked up. "What?" he demanded sharply.

"The glass is fused in," Deston said in frustration, still examining the case. "I can't get to it without risking setting off the bomb."

_00:37:26_

There was a long moment of silence in the room as Daryan and Ema absorbed this news; she stared at Deston, waiting for him to come up with an epiphany but he crushed her hopes by jumping down off Daryan and running a hand through his hair, looking distressed.

"We need to get Tessa out of that _goddamn chair_!" Daryan snapped, desperation slipping into his voice.

"I know, man—"

"Wait!" An idea dawned on Ema and she glanced towards the doorway. "That keypad out there, that must be it!"

Deston looked at her sharply, his eyes going wide with understanding at what she was suggesting. "You're right… Keep an eye on that—" he pointed at the bomb "—while I go look at the circuit."

"How do you know that goddamn thing isn't gonna blow us all to hell if you fuck up?"

"I don't, Daryan," Deston snapped back, heading for the door. "Do you have a better idea?"

_00:36:51_

Daryan said nothing.

.'.

_**36 minutes to go**_

"What are you doing?"

Leonardo didn't look away from the screen in front of him through his mouth curved in a satisfied smile. "Just enjoying the show, dear sister."

Irina's heels echoed in the dark around them as she walked to his seat and stopped right behind him. A moment of silence followed.

"James told me what you've done," she said coldly. "You disobeyed me."

"I'm your older brother," he said, tilting his head back to look at her. "And _James_ disobeyed _me_."

"Perhaps he sees that I'm the most stable sibling he has," Irina pointed out but Leonardo laughed and just continued to watch the footage – the camera was focused on Daryan and Ema, both of whom were talking to Tessa though their conversation was inaudible. Their movements and expressions were calm as if they were trying to soothe her with their actions.

Irina's blank eyes flickered onto the image. "Where's Cavatin?"

"Messing with the keypad outside."

The note of amused satisfaction in his voice caused his sister's eyes to narrow. "What have you done to it?"

"Why don't you wait to see?"

The cold metallic cling of a gun was followed by the sound of it being cocked – Leonardo ignored the barrel of her piece as she pressed it against his temple. "Stop it," she ordered. "You are not going to mess with my plans."

"What plans? All I see is a riddle here, a threat there – it's not really tantamount to a gr—"

"I won't tell you again, Leonardo," Irina cut him off, anger now entering her usually impassive voice. "Disarm the bomb or you're going to swallow the business end of my gun."

"And then you won't have anyone to disarm it at all," he said with whimsical amusement.

"But I'll be one idiot of a brother shorter," she retorted. "And trust me, that will be a blessing either way."

Leonardo seemed to go quiet as if he was considering how serious she was but Irina was distracted from scrutinising his expression when a sudden flurry of movement on the screen caused her to snap her head towards it: Ema and Daryan had darted upright and were staring at the bomb with pure panic in their features.

"Too late."

.'.

_**10 minutes and 30 seconds to go**_

"DESTON!" Daryan bellowed, his eyes fixed on the counter which had jumped from 30 minutes to 10 and half. "_WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?!_"

Deston reappeared immediately and his grey eyes rose to the ceiling, his face paling. For once, words seemed to fail him and he gripped his hair, looking wildly from Tessa to the bomb and Ema could see the truth in his eyes: he had no idea what to do. Her heart leapt to her throat as she began to understand that there was no getting out of this situation. There was nobody around to save them, no clues for them to follow and whatever time they had had was now gone. As Daryan fell by Tessa and started trying to yank the clamps off with his bare hands, Ema slowly approached Deston, putting a hand to his arm.

"I can finish this," she said calmly. "If I give myself up to—"

"No, Ema," Tessa said with a cough, ignoring what her husband was doing. "They won't let us go. That was a lie."

"I have to try," she said, turning to her friend. "If there's a chance it can save you…"

"Do you think any of us want to live a life like that?" Daryan shouted, still struggling with the clamps. "That fucking moronic boyfriend of yours would never get over it!"

"We could never look him in the eye, Ema," Tessa said quietly. "I could never forgive myself."

"So what?" she cried shakily. "We all die?"

"_NO! _I'm gonna get you out of here, Tess," Daryan was promising fiercely though his voice broke. "I swear I'll get you out of here!"

"Daryan—" Tessa's voice froze him in his tracks and he looked up at her. "Stop…"

"You're not dying here!" he said loudly, refusing to listen to her.

"You stubborn fool," she retorted, her own volume rising shakily. "When are you going to stop fighting it? I've been fighting a losing battle fo—"

"Don't you dare!" Daryan snapped. "Don't you fucking dare give me this, Tess."

"Stop swearing, would you?" she chuckled. "All the profanity in the world won't change the truth."

"We've come too far to give up now," he protested, holding her face. "Just believe in me. Just trust in me."

"I do trust you," Tessa said softly. "I trust you to see the futility of the situation. I trust you to do the right thing this time."

Those words stilled the thrashing posture of her husband and though she couldn't see Daryan's face from where she was standing, Ema knew Tessa had finally got through to him. She leaned into Deston when he wrapped his arms around her and her heart ached watching Tessa kiss Daryan, grateful that at least they were together in these final moments. This was it, wasn't it? They were all going to die – but at least they would die together. At least she would go down with her friends. She thought of Klavier and all of her anger at him evaporated, replaced with regret. How had she allowed herself to come out here without making amends with him? What had she been thinking? Now he would never know how sorry she was, how much she had loved him and that she had forgiven him for the har—

Wait… Couldn't she?

"Deston?" she whispered looking up at him. "Can I borrow your pho—"

But he wasn't listening to her: his eyes were fixed on the couple and the rising hysteria in them sent a chill down her spine. She followed his gaze to find it locked with Daryan's who was now embracing Tessa and nodding at Deston slowly. The stare off between brothers was fraught with tension, with meaning and a message that was lost on Ema who continued to look between the two.

"No," Deston said softly, shaking his head in denial and his voice cracked. "Daryan, you—"

"Tell me you wouldn't do the same." Daryan's voice was gentle when he addressed his friend, all that icy aggressiveness that he had carried with him as long as Ema could remember was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by a tranquil acceptance that softened his features into a face she didn't recognise.

"What…?" Ema whispered.

"If this was you and Raina," he said softly, staring at Deston, "tell me you wouldn't do the same."

Ema felt Deston tense under her fingers, heard his breath catch in his throat and the reaction sent a chill down her spine. She looked up at him trying to find the meaning behind this conversation but he was still staring at Daryan with an expression so heartrending that it took her a moment to realise he had clamped his fingers around her wrist and taken a step back.

"Go, Deston," Daryan ordered. "Save her – and avenge us."

Ema felt her world cave in at those words.

"_NO!" _she screamed, yanking against Deston's grip. _"NO! WE CAN'T LEAVE THEM HERE!"_

Deston's hold on her barely shifted and as she watched the space grow between her and Tessa, she felt something inside her snap; something had broken free of its cage and was running rampant through her body, breaking through her screams with sobs that begged Deston to go back, that they couldn't desert them. And yet, for all her pleas, the distance kept growing until the last thing she saw before the door swung shut was Daryan pressing his forehead to his wife's.

After that, everything faded away no matter how hard she tried to hold onto her consciousness – the world became a blur and her head was spinning now, lost in a haze of madness that threatened to swallow her whole. She barely noticed the two men Deston found himself faced with nor heard the gunshots that dropped them. Everything was shaking again, a deep sort of rumbling that she could feel in her stomach, and then the cold air stung her wet cheeks.

_How had this happened? How had they come so far, saved Tessa time and time again for them to just leave her – and Daryan – to die in there? _

The explosion was deafening and drowned out all sound and consciousness and she went utterly still as the earth shook. Deston slammed her to the ground and held her close, his body wrapped around hers but Ema still felt the blistering heat, the force of the blast as it sent debris flying around them in destructive waves. She barely felt it when Deston bundled her into the car he had pushed her behind nor heard the wail of grief that escaped her when she finally saw the billowing fire that had consumed the ruins.

The car roared to life and screeched as Deston turned it around as if it, too, refused to leave this place – but what was there left to stay for? The two people they had loved were now lost in that blazing inferno that was rising higher and higher with each small explosion that continued to rock the grounds.

Her vision grew hazy, now filled with memories of the two that played themselves out cruelly before her eyes, accompanied by their voices. She had always been so harsh on Daryan, had always judged him so brutally and yet, at the end of the line where it had mattered most, he had shown his true self, hadn't he? He had had a chance to offer her in exchange for Tessa's life but had refused each time. And Tessa… Hadn't Tessa's quiet, gentle wisdom given her the strength and courage to take steps she had been afraid to take, to make choices she had been afraid to make? Tessa who had battled through illnesses and attempts on her life with a smile on her face and not a complaint on her lips. Tessa who had endured her husband's inexcusable actions in his attempt to save her life and then forgiven him in the end. How had that same gracious woman died?

She didn't know how long she was lost in her thoughts or if she was even awake anymore when the car came to an abrupt halt and she lifted her head. Somewhere in her mind, she reminded herself that Deston was with her, that one friend had survived that massacre, and she turned to look at him to see why he had suddenly stopped the car.

"Are you injured?" she whispered, not really realising she had spoken or what she was saying. In fact, it took her a moment to realise that Deston had turned off the engine of the car and was gripping the wheel so tightly, his knuckles looked ready to break through the skin.

And then, before she could say another word, he pressed his forehead against his hands and started to cry.


End file.
